


A Very D/G Holiday

by Anise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 29,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28341465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anise/pseuds/Anise
Summary: Draco and Ginny at the Burrow for Yuletide! Throw in tense dinners, shocking family secrets, a snowstorm, and a dragon or two… what could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Cho Chang/Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/George Weasley
Comments: 39
Kudos: 18





	1. The Promise

A/N: Hey all, it’s a D/G holiday story! 😊 It’s also being posted on the FIA FB group, and that is the only place to see ALL of the daily art that goes with each chapter. Here’s how to find it

[Here's the link to our group.](https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom)

Or go to Facebook and type in “The Fire and Ice Archive Community at D&Gdotcom” and then join the page. It’s all there!

PART ONE: A Very D/G Christmas: The Promise

Draco stood across from Ginny, hands on hips. "What more do you want?" he demanded. "There's a Christmas tree. Ornaments. I'm even wearing the Santa suit! And may I say that the elf outfit is adorable; I knew it would be."

"No, you may not!" Ginny stabbed a finger in his face. "Draco, we're in a dungeon. It's Yule in a dungeon at Malfoy Manor."

"I have some very fond memories of past holidays here, I'll have you know," said Draco, lying through his teeth.

Ginny waved a hand at the wall, sweeping down to the floor. "Skulls... a ball and chain... an axe... a sacrificial altar... really, Draco, does this say 'Happy Holidays" to you?"

"Er..." In point of fact, it didn't. Draco had tried rather hard to suppress several Yule memories that involved dungeons and dragons, but in a far from playful way.

She stepped closer and put her arms around him.

"That's quite nice," he admitted. He'd forgotten how bloody *cold* it was in the dungeons. "I mean, no, you've simply got to accept the Malfoy Holiday Traditions if we're to be together, Ginny."

The look in her eyes turned dangerous. He attempted to backtrack. "I mean... ah..." Her hair was brushing his cheek now. What exactly *had* he meant? He couldn't quite remember.

"Draco," she whispered, "If it ever gets to that point with us, I’ll be more than patient with the Pureblood Ball, the formal teas, the traditional undergarments, and every other silliness that your sort likes to indulge in. But I've got to draw the line somewhere."

He stood very still. *If?* Funny, how that one little word was a dart of concentrated pain in his chest. But it was true. He hadn’t invited her into these parts of his life in the past six months, for the length of time they’d been together. And they were together; he knew that now, whatever else one could call this odd relationship between them. He supposed he’d always known that he was the one who had begun this deepening of their relationship by inviting her to the Manor to the first place, even though they were in his private wing and he had not yet quite told anyone she was there.

She pulled back slightly. “Forget I said anything at all.”

“No!” He reached for her hand and replaced her fingers on his lower back.

“No?” She cocked her head to one side in the way he’d always liked, even when he’d resented her as Harry Potter’s girlfriend, a mischievous expression stealing over her face. “What does that mean? No, you’re determined to spend the holidays in the Malfoy dungeon; no, you won’t do something different with me, or…?”

He bent his head and spoke softly into her ear, almost afraid to say the words. “No. I don’t wish to spend this holiday away from you, Ginny; not in any way.”

“So we’ll go somewhere else?” She nibbled at his ear.

"Wherever you like," Draco whispered, giving himself up for lost.

Ginny raised one devilish eyebrow. "Yuletide at the Burrow. That's what I'd like."

Draco wondered if it actually was too late to throw himself into the jaws of the dragon in the dungeon just below this one. It was always an option for Boxing Day, he supposed.

“I would stay here if your parents were actually going to have Yule,” Ginny pressed on. “But they’re not.”

No, they decidedly were not, thought Draco. His mother was in the South of France, and his father was still in Azkaban. Narcissa Malfoy had tried to convince Draco to go with her, painting pictures of sparkling celebrations in Nice and Monte Carlo, but he’d refused. He wondered if she had any idea why.

“So… please?” She looked up at him from the circle of his arms, eyes sparkling with hope.

“Yes,” he said.

If the incensed spirits of the Malfoy ancestors threatened to drag him to the ninth circle of hell for going to the Weasley family home, he could always claim that he'd acted under duress.


	2. The Drive

PART TWO: The Drive

And here it is: Part 2 of A Very D/G Christmas! Yay! Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo-ers, especially: Whiplash473, [LucyAragorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyAragorn), and [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778)

Check out the chapter art below. That’s Draco private wing of Malfoy Manor and his private car. 😉 

  
  
+++

Ginny looked suspiciously at the shiny 1932 Pierce Arrow pulled up casually outside the cast-iron gate in the curving, cobblestone driveway.  
  
“What are you planning to do with this?” she asked Draco, who was leaning against the car with a smirk.  
  
“I’m driving us both to the Warren, of course,” he said.  
  
“The Burrow,” she said, from between clenched teeth. “The ancestral Weasley family home is called the Burrow. It’s not as over-the-top ostentatious as Malfoy Manor, of course, but it does have a name.” The Weasley house wasn’t even a thousandth as old as the Manor either, whether one was talking about the entire monstrosity or simply Draco’s own private wing, which lay just behind the gate. The Burrow was on its second incarnation after the nightmare destruction in Ginny’s fifth year, and some liberties had been taken in the building process that Ginny _tried_ to think of as… interesting. Not that any of it interfered with the utter perfection of her family home, of course, which was a point that she seemed to need to remind herself of far too often. If she ever had any traitorous thoughts that perhaps everything wasn’t as perfect as it seems beneath the jolly surface of the Weasley family, she suppressed them instantly.   
  
“My apologies,” said Draco, sounding rather unrepentant.  
  
“So what’s this car really for?” asked Ginny.  
  
“I told you. I’m driving us both. Didn’t you say that the location of the… er… house was too close to unshielded areas? We shouldn’t really take magical transport.”  
  
Ginny had a feeling that Draco knew several dozen methods of magical transport that couldn’t possibly be traced to him, none of which would ever have been approved by the Ministry of Magic for actual use. But perhaps he was trying to be considerate of her feelings in not using any of them, particularly since so many would doubtless require summoning demons.  
  
“I’m really going to do this,” said Draco. "I’m going to drive on my own. I can’t think why you’re so suspicious.”  
  
“Do you have a license?” Ginny asked suspiciously.  
  
“Yes,” Draco said indignantly.  
  
“You’d better, Draco. I mean it. I’m not about to have us stopped by Muggle police because you’re swerving around and driving on the wrong side of the road.”  
  
“I do.”  
  
She threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t believe you, and I’m not getting in that car!”  
  
“I’m telling you the truth!”  
  
“Oh? Then how and where, exactly, did you get this license?“  
  
All right!” Draco said sullenly. “If you must know—“  
  
“I must.”  
  
“Then I’ll tell you all the gory details, but remember that you insisted. I’ve had the license for quite some time, and I first got it over the summer after I turned sixteen. Father thought I was spending twenty-four hours a day luxuriating in my traditional Pureblood Initiation at the Crystal Palace, and… er… I was, but the lovely concubine assigned to me also took me to driving lessons at five o’clock every day, while we took a short break from certain… er… activities.”  
  
“Lovely concubine?” Ginny asked furiously. “Certain activities?”  
  
Draco hung his head, looking abashed. “I’ve never tried to keep that a secret,’ he muttered. “Ginny, you’ve always known.”  
  
It was true, of course; Draco had told her about the initiation rather casually only a short time after they’d begun seeing each other seriously. Although Ginny would never have admitted it, she’d been more intrigued than anything else. And she’d had ample opportunity since to appreciate Draco’s expertise developed so early and so thoroughly. But that didn’t mean that she was about to let him off the hook so easily, either.  
  
“I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anyone before,” Draco said in an appeasing way.  
  
“It had better not be a detail I don’t want to know about this lovely concubine,” said Ginny.  
  
He came closer and slid his hands between her crossed arms, parting them, moving into the circle she instinctively made. “She looked like you,’ he said quietly.  
  
She laid her head on his shoulder and gave a long sigh. “All right. I trust you to drive.”  
  
As they got into the car and she noted just how large and sumptuous the upholstered leather backseat really was, she wondered if some of the mutual activities she’d been running over in her mind might be performed there with Draco at some later date.  
  
Of course, he’d have to survive a holiday dinner with the Weasleys first. And that outcome was far from a given. 

Although the dinner, the gathering, her brothers and father and mother, all of it was going to be completely, totally perfect. She knew that it would.

“It really _will_ be,” she muttered, staring out the window. “Nothing could possibly go wrong.”

“What did you say?” Draco looked back at her from the front seat.

“Er—I was just saying that everything’s going to be absolutely great once we get there,” she said. But even to her own ears, she sounded like she was trying to convince herself far more than anyone else.

A/N: There’s more original art for this chapter, but the only way to see it all at once is to go to the Facebook group. So just go to FB and join [Our D/G Group!](https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom)


	3. The Discussion

And here it is... Part 3! :) Thanks to all readers, followers, and kudo-ers, especially [Hattifnatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hattifnatter/pseuds/Hattifnatter)

  


PART THREE: The Discussion

“I don’t recognize where we’re going in the least,” said Draco as he and Ginny trudged down a snow-covered lane. He was fairly sure they’d passed the same snowy stump several times by now. “Perhaps we’ll be eaten by polar bears at any moment,” he added. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever heard, as long as Ginny was by his side-- and when compared to Yuletide Eve dinner at the Weasleys.

“No, you might not recognize anything we passed before,” said Ginny in a distracted way. “You see, the Burrow is now a Runcible House.”

“A what?” Frostbite must be setting in; the first sign was disorientation. Draco wondered if he really ought to check the Warming charm or welcome the experience. It might provide a good excuse to stop trudging through this godsforsaken wilderness, unfold a miniaturized hut that he happened to have in the pocket of his trousers, and cuddle with Ginny in front of a roaring fire.

“Runcible,” repeated Ginny. “It changes without warning—the landscape, the architecture, everything. Even the rooms inside can change. Dad tried to get a bargain on the architects. He should’ve known better, considering they were recommended by the gnomes, who had a grudge against him from all those years of being tossed out of the garden.” She frowned. “It’s a bit dangerous… or it could be…”

“Dangerous?” asked Draco in a voice that he could hear was pitched too high.

“It’s rather interesting, actually,” said Ginny. “These changes only seem to happen when there’s tension or arguing in the house, so… er… they’ve been happening quite often lately.”

“Has it,” said Draco in neutral tones. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear more.

“Here’s what I mean. At Sunday dinner a few weeks ago, I was arguing with Mum about… uh… something,” Ginny went on, sounding distinctly awkward. “And the dining room began changing into a dungeon—at least, we think that’s what happened. There were the strangest sounds coming up from the floor, almost like roaring, the lights flickered and started disappearing, the walls started turning into stones… it was a bit like the one at Malfoy Manor, come to think of it. The roast beef fell on the floor, the table almost broke in half… it wasn’t good. But everything turned out all right in the end,” she quickly added.

He wondered exactly how much begging might be required to convince Ginny to return to the Manor. Perhaps he could lead them in a circle and head back to where he’d parked the Pierce-Arrow…

She touched his arm, and he shivered, but not because of the cold. He looked down at her.

“Draco, I swear, it’s going to be all right,” she said in a low voice. “Please don’t worry about that part of it.” Her eyes were huge and golden, and her lips trembled. Perhaps I could dig up just a bit of courage after all, he thought.

He took a deep breath. “Then I won’t. There’s certainly no shortage of other things to worry about. Your family’s reactions to me, for instance. Falling into a dungeon might be highly preferable to what your brothers would have planned, if they knew I was on my way.”

Ginny smiled. “Don’t worry about that either.”

Draco couldn't help warming to that smile, but a thought struck him. “What was the original argument about?”

“Nothing,” said Ginny.

Draco looked closely at her face and neck. A blush seemed to be rising that had nothing to do with the cold. “I was the subject of the Weasley family disagreement in some way, wasn’t I?” he asked.

“No,” she said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I swear it, you weren’t. Mum was upset with me for not coming home for Sunday dinner three weeks running, that’s all.”

“I remember those Sunday mornings very well indeed,” said Draco with a crooked smile. In return, her blush deepened. \

They walked for a few more minutes, holding hands, and he felt a deep peace stealing into him. Still, some important questions remained.

“Will your family actually descend as a body and stab me with the carving knife and fork as soon as I set foot over the threshold?” Draco asked earnestly. “It’s just that I need to know, so that I can get a headstart on the running now. I’m not really very brave, you know. At least not in the abstract. Any fool can be brave in the middle of a goblin battle when it’s a matter of showing physical courage or being killed. But if I’ve got a chance to think about disaster, I’m a bit of a coward.”

“Yes, I’d worked that out on my own by now, oddly enough,” Ginny said dryly. “And I don’t think they will. I’ll stay close to you at all times.”

For the first time since leaving the wards around Malfoy Manor, Draco felt a bit more relaxed.

Ginny, however, looked worried. "Oh dear," she said under her breath.

"What?" asked Draco, beginning to feel anxious all over again.

"It's the welcoming committee," muttered Ginny. "Damn. I'd hoped that Fred and George weren't going to do this."

TBC...

A/N: There’s more original art for this chapter, but the only way to see it all at once is to go to the Facebook group. So just go to FB and join us at: [The Fire and Ice Archive Community.](https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom)  
  



	4. The Prelude

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo-ers! Here it is, Part 4! I really like this chapter, even though it’s short. :)

  
  


PART 4: The Prelude

  
  


Draco followed Ginny’s gaze and saw two small figures moving towards them from the other end of the snowy road. They were so far away that they still seemed small, but he could tell that they were actually two very tall, very muscular, very identical young men.

 _Oh dear,_ he thought.

“Get back here!” hissed Ginny, pulling him behind a tree.

“Would you mind telling me just what in the hell is going on?” asked Draco, his tones as measured as he could manage to make them.

“Look, it’s not anything specific,” said Ginny, picking nervously at her nails. “Not really. It’s just… oh, I suppose that I ought to have told you a bit earlier about what’s going on in the family.”

“You mean you dragged me here in the midst of some Weasley family drama and didn’t bother to inform me?” demanded Draco. “What, is it something on top of the fact that they’d all love to throw me to man-eating gnomes as soon as I walk through the door?” An awful thought struck him. “They do know that I’ll actually coming, right?”

“Er…”

“You didn’t tell them,” Draco said flatly. “And you didn’t tell me.” He felt genuinely hurt, too much so to grab onto the succulent opportunities this situation provided to hold the moral high ground. Those chances were few and far between. He was surprised at the pang of pain he felt at being Ginny Weasley’s dirty little secret, apparently until that very day.

“That’s not it at all,” protested Ginny. “Not exactly. Look, Ron knows, you already know that.”

“Yes, of course,” sighed Draco. He was still far from sure why this was the case, but Ron’s reactions to learning that his sister was dating the sinister heir to the dubious Malfoy name had not included murder attempts. Ginny’s youngest brother had been far from happy, but he’d taken the news with a kind of grumpy, neutral ill grace.

“So I sort of… thought he might help me break it to Mum,” Ginny went on. “And he kind of, um, didn’t. That’s what I found out this morning. Look, it’s not his fault!” she said quickly, forestalling Draco’s protest. “There’s something I didn’t know before; I only learned it today when I talked to him. Ron’s dating Cho Chang. He’s bringing her today as well. And he knows that Mum won’t be happy about that.”

“Whyever not?” Draco asked blankly.

“Oh… she wants Ron to stay with his ‘own kind’, as she puts it. She's kind of pretending that she doesn't know they're a couple yet, but she does, and she keeps making comments like that.”

“What on earth does your mother mean by that? Chang’s a pureblood.”

“It’s not that, it’s… well… She wasn’t happy in the least back when I was dating Dean Thomas, you know.”

Draco had been rather resentful of Dean himself in the past, but only because he’d suspected that the other boy had already explored certain areas of Ginny Weasley that Draco far preferred to remain untouched. As soon as he’d become fully intimate with Ginny and found out for himself that his suspicions were groundless, he’d developed quite a friendly feeling for Dean. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he told Ginny.

“Well—you know.” She made a helpless gesture with her hands. “She couldn’t get over the fact that he was… um… different. That his people were from Haiti, you know.”

“Yes I do know. Dean Thomas’s family has been wizarding royalty in the West Indies for thousands of years. I can’t say that I see the problem.”

“Draco…” she groaned. “Mum didn’t like him because he’s… you know… black.”

Draco laughed. The statement was too ridiculous for words. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” he asked after a moment. “You know, your sort thinks of themselves as so open-minded, so unprejudiced, but yours are much worse than ours. Purebloods of the Malfoys’ sort don’t care about nonsense like skin color or nationality. Pansy Parkinson is half Sami, you know; the native people of Finland, and Muggles treated them like rubbish for hundreds of years. What earthly difference should such trivial things make?”

Ginny hung her head. “You’re right,” she muttered.

“We really ought to find a Muggle recording device to save those words for posterity. I’m sure you’ll never admit such a thing to me again,” said Draco, more sharply than she’d intended.

“I know,” said Ginny, not quite looking at him. “Mum’s like that sometimes. She judges people based on things they can’t help, and she can be harsh with it. She was dreadful to Hermione when we were all still at Hogwarts. Mum thought that she’d thrown over Harry, and she didn’t bother to find out the truth. Of course, well, it’s not as if you were ever fair to Hermione either.”

He couldn’t bear to hear the sad note in her voice, or see her averted face as she admitted the faults in those she loved. He came forward and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re right; I wasn’t,” he said softly. “But I’ve never told you exactly why. I’ve never told anyone.”

“Tell me, then,” she said, her voice muffled in his chest.

TBC… and don’t forget, if you want to see all of the art for each day in one place, the only place to find it is at: [Our Facebook Group](https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom)


	5. The Preparation

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo-ers, especially [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778)

**Part 5: The Preparation**

“It’s because I saw something that I don’t think anyone else did.” Draco stroked Ginny’s long red hair, the gold overtones sparkling in the winter sunlight. “You tried over and over again to become Granger’s friend, and she ignored you for years. She didn’t respond in the least to your overtures of friendship until you were ensconced at Potter’s side. Then she accepted you in a minimal sort of way, as an appendage to him. Oh, don’t think that’s the only reason I disliked her, or that my other reasons were good; I was a miserable little bastard back then. But my contempt for her really stemmed from the way she acted towards you.”

Ginny looked up into his face and laughed shakily. “Then I’m glad that she and Harry won’t be here.”

“Never tell me they actually became a couple!” Draco exclaimed incredulously.

“Looks like it.” She grinned. “And I couldn’t be happier, because that means she won’t get Ron into her clutches again.”

Draco winced. “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know…”Ginny made a face. “Perhaps I’m not entirely fair to Hermione either. She’ll make Harry so much happier than I ever could.” She sighed and leaned back against Draco’s chest. “Maybe this was a really, really bad idea. Perhaps we could just stay out here.”

“That sounds incredibly tempting,” admitted Draco.

“But look…” Ginny pointed at the sky, and he followed her gesture. Ominously gray clouds were beginning to gather in the sky. “Do you think there’ll be a storm later on?”

He leaned down and smelled the fresh lavender scent of her hair. “It doesn’t matter if there is one; we could still stay outside.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me that you have some sort of sinister Dark charm that would create an exact copy of your wing of Malfoy Manor in the middle of the woods.”

“No. But, ah…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square of folded parchment.

“Whatever’s that?”

“It’s one of Dr. Coley’s Collapsible Cottages, equipped with a breakfast nook, a front room with a crackling fire and a fur rug, a lovely full bedroom, and a hot shower sized for two. I’d only need to use a simple Expanding charm.”

“Oh, I wish we could…” Ginny muttered.

She lapsed into silence, and he wondered if Ginny might be kidding on the square, or even if she was joking at all. Did a part of her really wish there were some way out of this family obligation, no matter how loudly she insisted on its perfection?

He looked down into her face and gave a long, long sigh.

“Let’s go, Ginny. We might as well meet them halfway on the road.”

She looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really. Your family’s got to find out about us sooner or later. Unless… er…” He tried to keep his voice light. “You actually do want to keep me as your permanent dirty little secret?”

“No, I don’t,” Ginny said quietly. “I did want to tell you a bit about what’s been happening with my other brothers, though. Fred is in a royally foul mood and has been ever since his breakup with Alicia Spinnet last week. I won’t allow him to take it out on you, or me, but I’m not sure how pleasant he will be. I think that he suspects we’re together, but it’s one thing to suspect and quite another to bring an unpleasant fact out into the open. Ron was supposed to break the news of… us… to him, but what with the Cho Chang situation, I’m not sure if he ever did. And I didn’t contact Fred myself this morning, which I might have tried to do. You’re not the only one who can be cowardly at times, Draco. And George… I’m not really sure what’s going on with him. Personally, I think he’s dating someone new and doesn’t think that Mum would approve of whoever it is. He’s been very cagey lately. Mum is dreadfully on edge; she can be a bit… difficult… when she suspects the worst but doesn’t actually know anything. Dad will probably spend the entire time puttering in the shed. What else… Percy’s still not coming to the Burrow for most family holidays… Bill’s in France with Fleur’s family, of course, so he won’t be here, and Charlie’s with that reindeer herding girl he met in Lapland. So it’ll only be the seven of us.”

“And seven’s a lucky number, they say,” Draco said lightly.

“It’ll be _perfect_ ,” she said. Her voice trembled just a bit on the last word.

He nodded, wondering why she seemed to need so much self-reinforcement on that particular point. “So let’s get on with it.”

She slipped her hand into his, her skin at first cold, and then very quickly turning warm. “Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t thank me yet, Ginny.” Although Draco had intended his words to sound casual and unconcerned, he was fully aware that they did not. But he smiled at Ginny and began to walk towards the two figures approaching them at the end of the road. _I suppose I’m not quite as cowardly as I thought._

Of course, he was still easy hexing distance from Fred and George, as long as he used one of the many Dark jinxes he knew. That fact did tend to calm his mind a bit.

“Oh, no,” said Ginny out of the side of her mouth as her brothers drew closer.

“What?” asked Draco apprehensively.

“Fred’s really going to be in a foul mood. See that sweater?” She jerked her head in Fred’s direction.

“Ah… yes.” Draco did indeed see the sweater. He rather thought that it would be impossible to miss if standing on the moon and attempting to pick out individual land features on Earth.

“I wonder if Mum’s having a bit of revenge,” said Ginny. “We all begged her to not knit horrid Yuletide sweaters this year”

The sweater certainly fit that description, though Draco. As long as one considered the juxtaposition of hideous pink and blue plaid and nubbly yellow-green wool to be a Yuletide theme.

“Take that Invisibility spell off of us now, Draco,” said Ginny.

“It’s not really an Invisibility spell,” Draco said indignantly. “It’s just a bit of Muffliato. I thought that perhaps the best thing might be to keep us rather unnoticeable until an opportune moment.”

“This _is_ the opportune moment, Malfoy,” said Ginny, an edge to her voice.

It was best not to cross Ginny once she started calling him by his surname, thought Draco. Although there were circumstances in which that could be quite stimulating, they were usually located in the bedroom, and this was not one of them. He sighed and tapped the air between them with his wand, feeling the familiar light tingling that meant the spell had been lifted and they were now fully visible and audible.

TBC…


	6. The Meeting

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo-ers! 😊

**PART SIX : The Meeting**

A twin wearing a plain gray sweater walked in front, the other trailing behind him. _That’s George, then,_ thought Draco, rather pleased at his capacity for rational thought when a small part of him wanted so much to run the other way, screaming like a little girl. Except that Ginny probably never _had_ screamed as a child. He had to live up to that standard. Not that she never screamed now when they were spending a particularly intimate evening together-- or morning, or afternoon, or dawn-- but those were adult screams of a different sort, and very pleasant indeed.

Everything was going to be all right, Draco decided. After all, nearly three years had passed for him since Hogwarts, or rather since that awful last year he’d spent largely at Malfoy Manor, trapped with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He’d spent all of his time since then cleaning up the disaster that had become the Malfoy name—the finances, the damages, and above all, the death of his father. Lucius had been found dead in the Malfoy library only a few weeks after the war; Draco had always suspected that his suicide was part of a bargain he’d made with the Wizengamot to drop criminal charges against the family. Nothing else could have made him begin to forgive his father, but Draco was starting to make peace with the past at last. He’d begun to change, letting go of old prejudices, the snobbery and meanness and arrogance that stemmed from his own deep misery. And Ginny had helped him more than he could ever express. They’d been together for over six months, and recently, he had felt their relationship deepening. Not that they’d exactly _talked_ about it—the habit of a lifetime of silence about emotions died very hard for Draco—but he thought that they would do so soon. Very soon.

The world had changed. The past was the past. Surely Ginny’s family would accept him now. At least one of the twins looked cheerful.

“Ginny!” George said in an enthusiastic, loud voice. “So good you’re here. Great to have you back home again, my little sis. How’ve you been? Good. Good, I can tell. Haven’t seen you in far too long.” He stepped forward and swooped her up in a hug.

Draco’s eyes narrowed, and he wondered exactly what was going on. For as long as he could remember, he’d had a gift for summing up people and situations almost at a glance, instantly grasping relationships, characters, motivations, and the fault lines connecting them all, finding the weak points and the places that held strong. He knew instantly that George Weasley was nervous, although not on Draco’s account. That twin had something to hide, and he wasn’t doing it very successfully. Any profound dislike he might have for Draco himself was taking a backseat to whatever that was. And Draco rather thought that Ginny was right, and that George had a personal relationship of some type that he knew his family wouldn’t approve of. Because of that fact, he might be an unlikely ally of sorts.

Then Draco saw Fred’s face over Ginny’s back.

All of his newfound courage wanted to turn tail and run the instant their eyes met. He saw Fred’s murderous glare, and he understood that this Weasley, at least, was going to have exactly the reaction he’d expected. The question was whether this was an animosity that Fred wouldn’t be able to overcome for his sister’s sake, and that was an answer that Draco didn’t yet have any feel for.

“ _You_ ,” said Fred, almost calmly.

Draco decided not to answer with a snappy comeback, such as something along the line of, _good to see you can properly apply correct pronouns, Weasley_. Not only would Ginny become miffed, he wasn’t sure if he could manage such a long sentence at the moment.

“Ah, yes,” said Draco. “I’m quite pleased to meet you, er…” Should he call Ginny’s brother by his first name? He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get his tongue around that. But he couldn’t very well go on calling everybody Weasley today. Considering the number of Weasleys that would be present, even when one didn’t count the oldest three brothers, it would get confusing fast.

“It’s true then,” said Fred, continuing as if Draco hadn’t spoken, He moved around George to confront Ginny. “You’re really seeing him. You’ve really brought him to Yuletide dinner. You’ve actually done it, Ginny.”

That did sum up the situation quickly, at least, thought Draco.

“Look, Fred, I know. I should have just come straight out and told you,” said Ginny, stepping out of George’s protective embrace.

“No, you shouldn’t have done,” said Fred. “You shouldn’t be doing this at all. I’ll do him a favor. How’s that?” He shot Draco a look of intense dislike. “I’ll let him leave instead of unleashing every hex I can think of.”

Draco groaned inwardly. This was shaping up fast to be less than a stellar holiday dinner. Yet he felt instinctively that Fred’s reaction was largely bluster—although he wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to bet his life on that guess, which might well be what it all came down to.

George put a hand on his twin’s arm. “Fred, I think you ought to calm down a bit. We need to figure out how we’re going to break the news to Mum.”

“Break what news? That there’s another body thrown down that bottomless pit in the back yard? Because I can get behind preparations like that.”

“Er… _another_ body?” Draco whispered to Ginny in a thread of a voice.

“The rest are all garden gnomes,” said Ginny, in what was undoubtedly meant to be a comforting way. She straightened up and addressed Fred. “Look, as I was trying to say, I know that I should’ve just come out and told you about this, Fred. But I also knew this would be your reaction. And it doesn’t have to be. We’re not teenagers at Hogwarts anymore; we don’t need to hold onto these old animosities—“

“There’s nothing ‘old’ about it,” Fred said through clenched teeth. “Malfoy’s up the same tricks right now. Dad told me about how he’s weaseled out of all the criminal charges at the Ministry.”

“That’s not fair!” Ginny hands clenched into fists. “And it’s not true. If you’d only let him explain—“

“I don’t want to hear a word he’d have to say. He’s not capable of telling the truth anyway.” Fred’s hand twitched towards the wand holster at his belt, a sight which made Draco truly nervous.

“Say, let’s have the discussion indoors, shall we?” said George, stepping between Fred and Ginny. “A Warming charm only goes so far, and it’s bloody cold out here.”

 _The enemy of my enemy is my friend,_ thought Draco. Ginny was still hissing something at Fred, but Draco thought he knew where his best chance lay. He could tell that George Weasley hadn’t suddenly begun to entertain warm feelings towards him for Draco’s own sake, but he could see where a useful wedge could be driven, or a bridge built. Which ended up suiting his purposes best.

“What a wonderful idea,” said Draco, turning his warmest smile on George. “I’m looking forward to seeing your… ah… happy home.”

George’s smile was a bit fixed, but it widened. “Let’s go then, M-- _Draco.”_ He began to walk towards the house in the distance with Draco. Fred and Ginny, still glaring at each other, followed the pair.

TBC... 

Remember, the place to see all of the art is: Facebook, search for @DracoandGinnydotcom


	7. The Negotiation

**A/N: Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo ers, especially**[meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778). 😊

  
  


“Let’s hold back a bit, all right?” George muttered to Draco in a rhetorical sort of way.

  
Draco nodded, allowing Ginny and Fred to walk ahead of them on the snowy path towards the large, old house. They paused to argue near the front porch, but George stayed back at least twenty paces, and Draco did the same.

In all honesty—and Draco was starting to learn that no matter how devious he might be towards others, he had to be honest with himself—he was glad to be out of easy hexing distance of Fred’s wand. Both of the twins were so muscular, Draco thought uneasily, their shoulders and chests so broad, their bodies bristling with strength. While Draco was stronger than he looked, he was slender and sinewy rather than musclebound. He was perfectly well aware that any contests without wands would not end happily for him. But he’d never pretended to be particularly brave in a physical sense. Although he thought that he might just manage it for Ginny, especially if she tenderly dressed his wounds afterwards, perhaps bathing his naked body, and then her capable hands would descend beneath the soapy water and—

“Here’s what you’ll have to do,” George was saying, and with a bit of effort, Draco dragged his attention back to the present. It was dangerous to allow thoughts about any girl to affect his concentration to that extent, as he knew very well.

“Ron’s already resigned to you,” said George. “So you don’t need to worry about him. You’re lucky that Charlie and Bill aren’t coming, because I think they’d hex to a cinder between them, and then Charlie would feed your ashes to a dragon afterward. Percy’s never really disliked you, too bad he won’t be here. Fred will come around, and there’s nothing you can do to get him to treat you decently right now anyway, so there’s no point in worrying about him. Dad won’t exactly be happy to see you, but I think he more than suspects what’s going on already. Just be honest and straightforward with him—well, if you can fake that for an afternoon—and you’ll be all right. He’ll probably spend most of the time in the shed anyway. Now, Mum… Mum can be difficult.”

  
“Why exactly are you telling me all of this?” asked Draco, his eyes narrowing. “I mean,” he added hurriedly, “I’m grateful, don’t think I’m not, but… er…”

  
I’d rather that you weren’t killed in the middle of Yuletide dinner,” said George. “We’d never get the bloodstains out of the Persian rugs. And I don’t want Ginny traumatized by the sight.” He looked Draco up and down. “She cares about you,” he said. “I’m not sure why, but she does, so I won’t allow you to be hurt. Because that would hurt her, and I won’t let that to happen to Ginny. She’s had enough pain in her life already.”

He gestured with one hand, and Draco answered with an awkward gesture of his own. They were almost, but not quite, shaking hands.

  
It couldn’t be said that George exactly liked him, Draco realized, but he trusted him, at least to some degree, which was not what he had expected at all. This is very odd. If he’d had time to think it out a bit, the question might have been shaped into some sort of sense, but now was not the time.

  
“Understand, Draco,” said George, “and by the way, I’m calling you that to naff you off—“ He gave a sudden grin, showing very white teeth. “And also because we’ll have enough friendly feelings today without addressing you by your surname all the time. I’m George. Go ahead, say it. You can do it. George.”

  
Draco realized that he never would have thought another Weasley could have a wicked wit, but after all, Ginny must have got it from somewhere. “George,” he said after a long sigh.

  
“So, now that we’re on a first-name basis, Draco, you’d better understand one thing. If you do anything to hurt Ginny—anything at all—you can forget all about any worries over what Fred would do. Because I’ll get to you first, if I have to chase you halfway across the world. And I think I’ll start with a Skin-Peeling hex and go from there.” If possible, George’s smile widened. “Do we understand each other?”

“Ah, yes,” said Draco. “Quite well.” He hesitated, and then added his next thought, which went so much against his nature to share that he had to force himself to do it. “But if I ever did hurt Ginny, I’d already have hexed myself into oblivion the moment after, so your job would be made considerably easier.”

  
“Good.” George’s smile faded to the point where it became more genuine. “Then there’s something you ought to know. It may not be a good idea to repeat this at Yuletide Dinner just yet, but I’ve never believed that you were as bad as everyone else seems to think. You were never more than a spoilt brat at worst. And I’m not sure that any of us on the side of light and goodness—whatever that means-- could have avoided the temptation to fall into darkness that was thrust on you at Hogwarts. But you managed to do it. I think it’s been an uphill climb for you the last few years, and you’ve done a damn good job of it.”

“Thank you,” said Draco awkwardly. _Dear gods, please don’t let there be a hug now_ , he thought.

“Then I’ll stand out in the cold, if it’ll make you happy,” yelled Fred just below them. “You can send out frozen plum pudding on a plate, Gin. There’s going to be a huge storm. I’ll probably get lost in a pile of snow. Just so I don’t ruin this great Yuletide dinner where we’re all supposed to sit at the same table with that evil, pointy-faced Death—“

  
“Don’t say it!” threatened Ginny, pointing her finger in his face as if wishing she’d drawn her wand instead.

  
It was as if the Warming charm had suddenly dissipated, leaving Draco exposed and vulnerable to icy blasts of wind. There it was, he thought. The curse and the choice that would haunt him forever. Maybe Fred Weasley was only telling the truth. Maybe he’d forever forfeited the right to sit at Yuletide Dinner with a girl like Ginny. Maybe he had no right to talk to her, to touch her, to make love to her, to—

  
“I will hex your head into a bowl of mashed potatoes!” screeched Ginny. Fred gave her a black look and stomped away in the snow.

  
  


“Er—shouldn’t we go after him?” Draco asked after Ginny had silently fumed for a few moments.

“He can jump in a frozen lake for all I care,” grumbled Ginny.

“He’ll come round,” George said comfortingly. “Your face is awfully red, Gin.”

Ginny sighed. “I really thought he knew,” she said sadly. “About Draco, I mean.”

  
“Oh, I think that deep down, he did,” said George. “But he’s never been forced to face up to it until today.”

“Neither have you,” said Ginny. “And you’re doing all right.”

George nodded, looking noncommittal. Draco realized that George had known what Fred had only suspected. So the question was how and why.

  
“So why are you helping Draco?” asked Ginny, looking up at him sidelong. “No, wait, I know. Are you dating someone that Mum wouldn’t like, and you need my help to break it to her?” She squeezed his arm. “Come on. You’ve got to tell me.”

“Yes,” said George in a clipped way. “I am.”

  
“I knew it! Will she be here?”

  
“Er… maybe. I don’t quite know if I dare bring her in.”

  
“So she’s nearby!” Ginny’s eyes lit up. “Oh, George, let her come in for dinner. You’re not seriously going to leave some poor girl hidden out in a hut or something.”

  
“Maybe I will do. But…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about Mum’s reaction, to tell you the truth.”

  
He’s dating some girl who was in Slytherin, Draco thought. That’s why he doesn’t want Molly Weasley to meet her. And that’s how he’d heard that Ginny and I were together. How interesting. He filed away the information in his mind for later use, if he thought of a good way to exploit it in his own favor.

  
“All right.” She turned to them both. “Let me go in first. I’ll see Mum before anyone else, and maybe I can get her into a decent mood.”

“Stranger things have happened,” said George. “Although not a lot of them, it's true.”

**Remember, all of the art is on Facebook at:** **@DracoandGinnydotcom.**


	8. The Greetings

**Thanks to all readers, reviewers, favoriters, and kudo-ers, especially:[meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778) **

**Hey all, I am SO proud of the art for this chapter!! It shows Draco, Ginny, and Molly in the portrait hall, and it took forever to finish.** **😉**

**Part 8: The Greetings**  
  
Ginny walked slightly ahead of Draco and George, looking distracted. Draco longed to catch up with her, hold her hand, make sure she wasn’t feeling chilled and that the Warming charm was still holding up, but he held back without quite being sure why. He was walking directly into the heart of the enemy, and perhaps that was the reason, he thought rather morbidly. He still couldn’t quite believe that he was about to actually step into the Weasley home.  
  
“I won’t come in quite yet; I’d best go back and try to find Fred first,” sighed George. “The longer he has to work himself into a royal snit, the worse he’ll be.”  
  
Draco calculated the chances that the missing twin might influence the attitude of the one currently at his side, and he took a calculated risk.  
  
“You’re dating a former Slytherin, aren’t you?” asked Draco.  
  
George’s mouth fell open. “How did you know? No, don’t answer that; I don’t suppose that I really want to know al of your information sources. You’re right. No point in trying to keep it a secret from you, I suppose.”  
  
Draco nodded, hoping that this fact might remind George Weasley that it would be helpful to have another former Slytherin supporting him. He wondered which one it might be. He could think of very few who would even have considered any of Ginny’s brothers as a partner. Daphne Greengrass might have done, but she was sunk deep in depression after the recent death of her mother, and she wasn’t letting Draco comfort her, nor any of her other friends from the Hogwarts days. Her sister Astoria… well, that was at least possible, but Draco had seen her recently with Blaise Zabini more than once. Xanthia Morgan, perhaps, but she seemed a bit sophisticated and urbane for the likes of George Weasley.

Perhaps George’s date was another young man, which he doubted would sit too well with the bourgeois prejudices of middle-class wizarding families like the Weasleys. But Draco somehow didn’t think so. He had a feeling that the problem was something else entirely, above and beyond the fact that George’s unknown partner was a Slytherin.

They reached the house, and Ginny opened a back door, letting in a shower of snow. The two of them walked into a long, low, dark hall.  
  
“I forgot to tell you something,’ whispered Ginny into his ear. “Remember how I told you it was a Runcible House, with different aspects always changing?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“Well, the things that change the most, by far, are the pictures on the walls. They, um, shift in appearance according to what anyone in the room most wants to see at the time. Or at least, they did for a while.” She looked embarrassed. “You should have seen when Fred first broke up with Angelina… there were Playwizard centerfolds up constantly until Mum put her foot down. They all change according to _her_ magic now, and I haven’t seen anyone else affect them.”  
  
Draco nodded again. He could believe that.  
  
“So don’t be surprised if, um… oh, never mind. Give me just a moment, all right?” whispered Ginny. She gave Draco’s hand a final squeeze and hurried down the corridor.  
  
Draco kept feeling the delicate warmth of her fingers long after she’d left him, and he missed the moment when a door at the end of the hall opened.  
  
“Ginny. Ginny dearest,” said a pleasant female voice coming from behind the half-open door. “Aren’t you dreadfully cold? Where’s your coat? Where are your mittens?”  
  
“Uh, Mum, I’ve got a good Warming charm. I’m fine,” said Ginny, bending down to hug someone who Draco couldn’t see.  
  
“Now, dear, you know that you never could cast a decent Warming charm,” the voice went on.  
  
Ginny shifted from foot to foot. “Well, I wasn’t the one who cast it, to tell the truth—“  
  
“You’re far too thin,” the unseen woman went on, as if she hadn’t heard. “Are you eating enough? I’ve got some wonderful eggnog for you as soon as you get inside. You’ve never learnt to cook properly, and goodness knows I’ve tried.”  
  
“Ah, well, actually, I have a new friend, one I’ve been meaning to tell you about, and he’s an astonishingly good cook. You’d never think, but he is, and he’s been cooking the most wonderful dinners for me.”  
  
Behind her back, Draco grimaced. His love for cooking was supposed to be their deep, dark secret. It was so unbecoming to a Malfoy. Still, he supposed that when Ginny finally revealed the identity of her cooking “friend” (another word that made him wince), then that little detail could hardly cause her mother to think any worse of him.  
  
“Well, do come in, dear. No need to heat the outdoors.” The figure straightened up, the door opened fully, and Draco saw Molly Weasley for the first time in years.  
  
In fact, he’d never seen her closely before, only the quickest vague glimpses many years in the past, and the sight threw him completely off guard. Draco had been sure that he’d known exactly what to expect from Molly Weasley-- a bustling, dumpy, matronly-looking woman, all flour-covered hands and cheerful smiles that turned sour the second she saw him. Her feelings and plans and motivations would be easy to read, because they would all lie close to the surface.  
  
But Ginny’s mother was quite different. Her clothes were far from fashionable, and her shiny red hair was arranged in an odd beehive style, but she was small and slight and slim, very pretty in an understated, elfin sort of way. Her face was pixie-like, her hands and feet tiny. While she must have been at least fifty years old, she looked much younger. A selfish part of Draco’s mind was pleased at this preview of Ginny’s future appearance. The rest of it was screaming warnings as she approached him with an expressionless face.  
  
“Draco Malfoy,” she said. “What a… lovely… surprise. I must say, I wasn’t expecting you.” Then she smiled, a tight upturn of the lips that did not reach her eyes at all.

  
Draco had been raised and trained to judge people at sight, to understand their unspoken motivations, to see the unpleasant characters traits they were experts at hiding from everyone else, and he understood something instantly about Molly Weasley. That smile of hers concealed a steel-trap ruthlessness, perhaps a plot to feed him plum pudding with one hand whilst sliding a carving knife into his back with the other.

“Well, Mum, I would have told you earlier, except…” Ginny faltered. For once, he thought, she seemed at a loss for words.

“It doesn’t matter now. You’re quite welcome, of course,” Mrs. Weasley said to him with that brittle smile. _No Legilimency required to know what a lie that is,_ he thought.

But there was something more lurking behind her eyes, and he didn’t think that it could be called surprise. He didn’t believe that his presence was a shock to her; he rather thought that Molly Weasley had already harbored suspicions in his direction, and now they had been confirmed. _Interesting,_ he thought. _I wonder why? Well, no time to think about it now._ _  
_  
Draco ran through a litany of proper greetings in the Malfoy circles and couldn’t quite settle on any of them. Bowing and hand-kissing were all very well for his great-aunt Meridiana, but they didn’t quite seem to fit into the Weasley home.  
  
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, deciding that simplest was best.  
  
“And I’m so pleased to meet you, Draco. You don’t mind if I call you Draco, do you? Oh, I understand that first names on first meetings may not be quite customary among your… er… sort, but you’ll pardon my sticking to what I’m used to,” said Molly, the smile fixed in place on her face. “I’m not so sure that I even _could_ say ‘Master Malfoy.’”  
  
Draco struggled not to grimace. The last time he’d been addressed by that honorific was at the age of seven by his dotty third cousin, Lady Grumium. And she’d been rather given to long conversations with the houseplants by that point.  
  
“It’s quite all right,” he said, aware that his voice was taking on its plummiest tones without his volition.  
  
Ginny loved his cut-glass accent at certain times, true, but those tended to occur in the middle of certain activities that he most certainly ought not to be remembering in front of her mother.  
  
Molly handed them both glasses of eggnog and then led them through a small entrance hall and into the front room. It was a very pleasant room, spacious and airy, with hardwood floors and Persian carpets and teak ceiling beams, much nicer than anything Draco would have been led to expect. Molly stopped in front of a fireplace with a pleasant smile. She was looking upward and back slightly, and Draco followed her gaze. Then his jaw almost dropped.  
  
The wall was completely covered in framed pictures, stretching from the first floor up to the second. Each and every one depicted Harry Potter. There were photographs, drawings, paintings, sketches. He recognized a drawing of Potter as a child on the cover of that American Muggle magazine… _Space_ , was it called? No, _Time_. Draco had heard something about it the year before. The publicity was part of some odd project that involved fictionalizing Potter’s adventures and presenting them as imaginary exploits, which was all that Draco had needed to hear.  
  
Molly giggled girlishly. “Yes, I’m afraid that I do keep conjuring these without meaning to in the slightest.” She sounded unapologetic, to say the least.

Draco took a long draft of eggnog, wishing that there more firewhisky in it.

TBC…

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	9. The Disagreement

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo-ers, especially [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778)

 **!** **😊**

**CHAPTER 9: The Disagreement**  
  
Ginny cleared her throat. “I love what you’ve done with the front hall, Mum,” she said awkwardly. “The carpet’s so nice, and the new staircase looks great.”

“Yes, I’m quite happy with the decorations,” said Molly Weasley, sipping eggnog.

The vast majority of these “decorations” consisted of portraits of Harry Potter, so Draco already had a sinking feeling about whatever it was that Ginny’s mother was going to say next.

“Oh, Ginny dear, I meant to show you something.” Molly began to walk towards the opposite wall, beckoning for Ginny and Draco to follow her. He had never been particularly good at precognition, but it didn’t take a Seer to predict that whatever was coming next, it did not bode well for him.

As he made his way to whatever nightmare awaited him, they passed the foot of the stairs to the first story of the house, and he noticed something slightly odd. A long, narrow tile was set into the floor at the bottom of the stairs. It was covered with elaborate symbols painted in blue, and it didn’t seem to match anything else in the front room. He had no time to examine the tile more closely, and he dismissed it from his mind as a strange decorating choice and quickly forgot it. He had quite enough to be going on with at the moment.

Molly pointed at a large and elaborately framed picture of Ginny and Harry Potter. “This one doesn’t always show up,” she said. “How nice that you can see it while you’re here, Ginny. Isn’t that just a lovely portrait?”

Ginny stared at the picture rather blankly. Draco could see that the pair were at some function or other, and that it must have been about a year after graduation from Hogwarts. Harry Potter was smiling at the camera with the sort of false humility that Draco had always believed actually concealed an arrogance he himself couldn’t begin to match. Potter’s arm was tightly wrapped around Ginny’s waist. Her hair was a rich, glossy red, caught up in a green velvet ribbon wound through her curls. Her neck and arms and shoulders were creamy against her forest-green dress. But her smile was tight and uncomfortable.

Molly sipped at her eggnog. “Such a lovely couple…” She stared at the picture without quite seeming to see it, speaking as if in a private dream, as if she did not know or care that Draco stood beside her and the young man in the portrait did not. “So perfect for each other.”

Draco clenched his teeth. Somehow, he vowed, he would get through this ordeal. Not only that; he would triumph.

“Yes, it’s a beautiful portrait,” he said, in a low, even voice. He turned to Molly and gave her his most charming smile. She blinked. He could see by the softness in her face that she was affected by his charm. There was something strange and fleeting in her expression, something wistful, as if turning over a bittersweet memory.

Then she widened her smile and beamed at them both. “I’ll just go and check on the goose and the ham. We’ll be ready to eat very soon. No, no—“ She held up a hand. “I don’t need your help, Ginny. I’m sure you two have loads to discuss.” She hurried back towards the kitchen, glass in hand. Draco caught a whiff of firewhisky as she passed him, and he decided that she had been saving it all for her own eggnog. Molly Weasley had left at the exact moment when Ginny would be simmering over the unanswered questions that had been raised, and yet the two of them couldn’t really talk it all out because of where they were. Again, he perversely admired her cleverness.  
  
When he saw the look on Ginny’s face, however, he knew that as far as she was concerned, there was no time like the present for conversation.  
  
“Come over here,” she said, in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. He followed her past a flight of stairs and into a back hall. The walls were filled with more framed pictures, and at even the briefest possible glance, Draco saw that they all showed Harry Potter. They stopped in front of a door.  
  
“What’s this about Astoria Greengrass?” Ginny asked point blank.  
  
“You know who the Greengrasses are,” said Draco.  
  
“No. I knew about Daphne. I’ve never heard a thing about Astoria.”  
  
“There’s no reason you ought to have done. She was never at Hogwarts; she attended Trollkvinna in Varmland—you know, that part of Sweden with all the lakes, right up against Norway—”  
  
”I don’t know where that is, and I don’t care!” Ginny whispered furiously. ”I want to know what this is all about.”  
  
Draco looked into her angry face, so alight with emotion and fire. He wondered if she felt jealousy. It was a strange thought. He’d never had any patience when other girls became jealous; in fact, he took it as a sign to move on. Sometimes the end of the attachment was welcome, sometimes a matter for regret, but nothing about the loss of these girls had ever caught at his own emotions, whatever they might be. All at once, he realized that those days were at an end.  
  
“Why do you insist on starting an argument about this less than half an hour before Yuletide dinner at your family’s house?” he asked.  
  
“It’s a _discussion_ , not an argument, and never mind just now why it’s so important. I do insist.” Her eyes narrowed. “I never bothered you about Pansy or any of the others, but this…”  
  
“Astoria Greengrass is quite different to the others,” said Draco. He knew instantly by the look on Ginny’s face that this had been precisely the wrong thing to say. “Well, none of them had anything to do with you, or with us,” Draco went on, attempting to turn her train of thought onto a different track. “Ginny, you already know that I’ve had other girlfriends, just as you’ve been with other partners.”

“Never in the same way that _you_ were, though,” she muttered.

He moved a bit closer to her and lowered his voice to a seductive pitch. “Oh, I know. But you can’t have thought that I could… ah… quite match your level of _innocence_ during our first time together.”  
  
She gave him a look that seemed to say he was using an unfair advantage by reminding her of what she’d given to him and to no-one else, by playing on her affections, her memories of pleasure at his hands. He was doing exactly that, of course.  
  
“You know I didn’t,” she said. “I’d have to be an idiot if I’d thought that. But that has nothing to do with the point at hand. I’ve always been perfectly aware that you’ve had a lot of girls, some boys as well, for all I know. This is different, Draco. You’ve never mentioned Astoria Greengrass before, and yet she’s supposedly an old childhood friend.” Her eyes narrowed. “Exactly what was she to you? And what is she now?”  
  
Draco knew that he shouldn’t answer her question with anything close to complete honesty, that he should smooth over the situation with a cunning, pleasant lie. _It’s too bad we aren’t in my rooms, or even that dreadful flat of hers,_ he thought with a flash of his old, cold calculation. _I could easily take off her mind off this thing for good with a few hours in bed. Or perhaps we do need to be at the Manor; think of the shower with all those custom taps, and the rubber duckies of various sizes…_ _  
  
_He looked into her angry face, and he knew he could not lie. _  
  
I used to be so bloody good at that sort of thing_ , he thought wearily. _Ginny’s ruined my talent for deception. No, I’ve done that myself._  
  
“All right. I’ll tell you,” said Draco, speaking quietly and rapidly. “My father wanted me to marry Astoria. If he’d lived, I might have even done it. The marriage would have earned his approval, which was a feat I never really managed, and never would have done, I’m sure. My father believed that Astoria was well-bred and pretty and pleasant, and that she knew how to behave as befits a Malfoy wife. And he was right.”  
  
Ginny jerked back as if she’d been slapped. “Did you-- _do_ you-- love her?”  
  
“No, not at all. I would have married her only to please my father.”  
  
“Oh.” Ginny looked down, her expression unreadable.  
  
“I swear to you, she has never meant anything to me in that way,” he said in a voice that was somehow starting to shake. “Yes, I do care for Astoria as a friend, but the feeling could never have developed into anything else even if we’d been married for fifty years. She’s always been like a little sister to me. You’ve got to believe me.” Realizing that he was starting to sound quite desperate, he fell silent.  
  
Ginny hesitated. Draco scrutinized her face. He thought that she did believe him, but that her belief somehow still left too many questions unanswered, too many ragged edges. Was she jealous? What would it mean to him if she were? The thought of Ginny dating another man behind his back felt like acid thrown into his chest; that much, he knew. And it was a dangerous feeling.  
  
The door opened behind them from the back hall, letting in a swirl of cold wind, and Draco wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for the interruption or not. It might well be another Weasley throwing his life into turmoil, after all, and in a much less pleasurable way than Ginny was doing.

TBC…

**Remember, to find all of the art in the same place, our group is at:<https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom> **


	10. The Group In the Hall

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, kudo-ers, and followers, especially [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778)

**!** **😊**

  
  


**Chapter 10: The Group In the Hall**

A tall young man with brick red hair stepped inside, stamping his feet from the cold. He closed the door to the outside, and a swirl of wind blew snow down the short hall. Draco shivered. I wonder if a storm really is on its way? He _wasn’t_ shivering because one of Ginny’s brothers had just come into the house and it had taken him a moment to recognize Ronald Weasley. Of course not. Anyway, he was fairly sure that he’d get at least a grudgingly decent reception from W—no, _Ron_ , he reminded himself; Ginny had made it clear that she wanted everyone addressing each other by their first names today.

Ginny stepped forward and hugged her brother in the doorway, murmuring something that Draco couldn’t hear.

“You look good, Gin,” he said after a few moments, holding her back from him and studying her smiling face. Draco had to admit it; after a rather unpromising start, Ginny’s brother had turned into a handsome young man.

“I am,” said Ginny. “It’s because I’m happy.” She pulled Ron further into the room and threaded her other arm through Draco’s.

When she looked up at him, he knew that she hadn’t seriously believed he’d been carrying on with Astoria Greengrass behind her back. Oh, her questions hadn’t been answered, and the conversation wasn’t complete; he had no illusions about that. But he sensed that if anything really disturbed her, it was the fact that he’d kept the truth from her about his father wanting him to marry into the Greengrass family. Ginny wasn’t actually angry with him.

 _Is it because she trusts me?_ He wondered. The thought made him feel tremulous and unsure and weak around the edges, none of which were safe emotions at the moment—or ever.

Ron finally looked away from his sister and at Draco, rather unwillingly, he thought, but then that was no more than he’d expected. “I see you’ve brought… him… to Yuletide dinner,” said Ron.

“Yes,” said Ginny, sounding a bit defiant. “I have.”

Ron was still looking at Ginny, and his mouth twisted up in a half-smile. Well—if you must, that smile seemed to be saying, and Draco breathed a silent sigh of relief.

There was someone standing on Ron’s other side, and Draco saw her for the first time. Cho Chang was taking off a coat and hanging it on a rack, and her dark eyes sparkled when she saw Ginny.

“I’m so glad you came with Ron,” said Ginny, moving to envelop Cho in a hug. “I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

Draco wondered if the fact that Ron Weasley’s girlfriend had shown up as well would be any help to him. She apparently wasn’t particularly popular with the family, or at least Ginny’s mother, although not anathema to the degree that he himself was. He couldn’t help a moment of selfish gladness that someone else was around to take some of the blame for ruining the Weasley family Yuletide, if it came to that.

“Of course I brought her with me. I’m done with this hiding rubbish,” Ron said simply. “Cho’s my girlfriend, and I’m bringing her to family dinners.”

“Mum will get over it,” said Ginny, walking back to Draco’s side. “You know, she never really liked Hermione for you either, Ron. I’m not sure who would have pleased her. She was all right with Angelina and Fred, I suppose, but that ship’s sailed.”

Cho’s eyes widened. “What on earth is this?” she asked, gesturing at the pictures of Harry surrounding them on all sides, covering nearly every inch of the walls.

“Well, it’s Mum,” sighed Ginny. “I really don’t think she can help it, and that’s probably got a lot to do with the books. The third one’s been officially released by now, and all seven are available in the wizarding world.”

“You’re not joking,” said Ron, studying the photos of Harry on the opposite wall, one of which was shirtless. “I really hope these won’t be up while we’re eating dinner. And what’s he doing holding that sledgehammer?”

“I think we’re all better off not knowing,” said Ginny.

Draco passed around glasses of eggnog from a tray on a side table, feeling rather proud of himself for doing house elf duty. Here’s hoping that it wins me a great many points with Ginny. he thought. Points that can be redeemed for a bit of fun on a fur rug in front of a blazing fireplace… or rather more than a bit…

“It’s good,” said Cho, sipping at her glass.

“Yeah, but it could use more firewhisky,” said Ron, echoing Draco’s earlier thought.

“I think Mum’s been hoarding it for herself. She might be hitting the spiked eggnog rather too hard today,” said Ginny.

Draco picked up the conversation again. “Er… you were saying that there are books? What sort of books? Ginny, what do you know about them?”

“More than I want to,” said Ginny. “There’s a series of books about Harry’s… um… adventures, and they’re being published only in the Muggle world.”

Draco raised his eyebrows but said nothing. _And you wonder why Salazar Slytherin wanted to keep the existence of the wizarding world a secret,_ he thought.

“I know what you’re thinking, but it’s all right,” Ginny said hastily. “A Muggle was paid to write them all; she interviewed Harry for months. Then the timing was changed in order to conceal the truth. Muggles believe that the first book was published a year before the last battle at Hogwarts.”

Draco was still far from sure that truth about the wizarding world could possibly be successfully concealed if it was all being revealed in a series of books, but he judged it the better part of valor to keep silent about his concerns. “What are they like?” he asked dubiously. He had a feeling that Ginny was right and he might be better off not knowing, but he’d never done a very good job of controlling his curiousity, and it was too late to start now.

“There are copies of all of them at the Ministry,” said Ginny evasively. “I’ve read all seven, even though the last four haven’t been released yet. And…um…”

“I’ve read them as well. The writing quality varies, but it’s generally been rather good,” said Cho, sounding rather reluctant.

“And it’s not that the books aren’t accurate,” said Ron. “But they’re still not—well, it’s hard to explain.”

“You might try,” said Draco, beginning to feel impatient.

“Ron’s right; the problem isn’t a simple one,” said Ginny. “The books are almost completely accurate as far as events. You know, just the facts about what happened and when and to whom. But there’s more to a story than that. It’s as if… well, everything was seen through Harry’s eyes, and he missed pretty much anything that was internal, if you see what I mean. I couldn’t believe how much of the personalities of the characters were completely different to reality.”

“What do you mean by that?” Draco asked warily.

“Oh… you know… Harry was the lone hero with just a bit of help from Hermione and Ron. Everyone loved him. Worshipped him, in fact. He was at the center of everything.” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“I really didn’t much care for the fact that I was painted as a sad, whiny bitch in the fifth book,” said Cho. “I never did anything except constant crying. It’s true that I wasn’t happy that year, not after what—you know. What happened to Cedric. But there was so much more to me than that, and Harry didn’t see any of it. I suppose that’s why.”

“I didn’t think much of what that Muggle ghostwriter did with me either,” said Ron. “I came across as more than a bit thick, and I never seemed capable of doing schoolwork on my own. I mean, it’s true that Hermione was very clever, but it wasn’t necessary to make me look like an idiot by comparison.”

“Don’t complain, Ron,” said Ginny. “I was the loyal girlfriend who stayed home and pined after Harry—oh, there was this one part where I told him that I never really got over him! It was just dreadful. At the very end, you know, after the last battle, Harry ignored me, walked right past me, didn’t try to comfort me even though we didn’t know if Fred and George were even going to live then. They had both almost died. In fact, to make the story sound more dramatic, the author actually said that—” She shuddered. “I can’t talk about that part; it’s so awful. Anyway, Harry just ran off with you and Hermione and acted like I didn’t exist. But the book made it sound unimportant.”

“It’s not as if I wanted to go!” protested Ron. “I felt obligated. So did she. Believe me, you were better off not hearing all of Harry’s whining, and his complaining that he wanted Kreacher to bring him a sandwich and where the hell was that house-elf. He was getting a bit above himself to say the least.”

Draco swallowed hard. “What about me?”

“Um…” Ginny avoided his gaze.

“My character could hardly have been omitted, so what was I like?”

“Er…” Cho looked away.

“I’ll find the books and read them straightaway, the instant the Ministry opens again after the holidays,” said Draco.

“No, no, please don’t!” Ginny said hastily. “The truth is… uh…”

“You were a snotty, whiny, elitist little bastard,” said Ron. He didn’t sound angry, but there was something faintly challenging in his tone.

Draco realized that he had two choices. He could either become stiff and sniffy and retreat into what Ginny always called perfectly horrid Malfoy-ness, or… or he could choose to react in another way. He took a deep breath.

“So the portrait was very true to life, then,” he said easily. “In the Hogwarts days, that’s exactly what I was.”

Ron laughed. “Malf—I mean, Draco-- I never thought you’d admit that.”

“Everyone in this house knows very well that it was true,” said Draco. “There’s hardly any point in avoiding it.”

“No, there isn’t,” said Ron.

But even as Draco nodded and smiled, he couldn’t help thinking about one thing. Exactly why had Ginny been so horrified at the idea that he might read the books? He had no desire at all to plow through the dreary saga of Harry Potter’s adventures, but he wondered exactly what it was that Ginny did not want him to know.

  
  


TBC...

**Remember, to find all of the art in the same place, our group is at:<https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>**


	11. The Mystery In the Kitchen

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, likers, favorite-ers, and kudo-ers, especially [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778) !

There isn’t any specific art for this chapter, but the Tree of Light is absolutely one my favorite D/G pics that I’ve ever done. So here it is. 😊

CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Mystery in the Kitchen

There was a moment’s silence in the back hall, long enough for Ginny to appraise the looks being exchanged between Ron and Draco. They might never become best mates, she decided, but there was a truce that she felt could last. _If everyone else in the family can eventually get to that point, I’ll be happy enough with it_ she thought. Perhaps they would never feel the same way they might have done if she’d really ended up with Harry Potter-- especially the ones like her mother, who believed the official wonder of the wizarding world really measured up to that title. _But this will be good enough for us to go on with, Draco and I. They’d better get used to him. He’s going to stick around! Unless, well… he is, isn’t he? We’ve been together over six months now. There are so many times when he seems right on the brink of saying something, doing something, that would bring us even closer together. But it never quite happens, does it…_

Ginny shook her head slightly at that thought, trying to clear it from her head, and Draco raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She squeezed his hand in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“Well, that’s enough about Harry,” she finally said. “Let’s talk about something else! Where’s Dad?”

“Still in the shed, working on a solution to the Runcible House problem,” said Ron between drafts of eggnog. “He thinks he’s almost got it. The dining room table keeps threatening to split apart right before pudding; that’s what he’s stuck on. And the floor _was_ threatening to open into a bottomless pit, but he thinks he’s got that one licked.”

“Should make for an interesting dinner,” said Cho. “But the back yard’s been all right, hasn’t it, Ron? Maybe we could get together a pickup game of Quidditch later on.”

“As long as the storm doesn’t hit, I’m more than up for a game. And George would love it,” said Ron, smiling.

“Fred as well, don’t you think?” asked Cho.

Ron’s smile tightened a bit around the edges. “Fred’s in the shed along with Dad…”

Ginny scowled. “Is he ever planning to come out?”

“He’ll come round, Ginny.” Ron looked sober.

They passed round the eggnog and chatted about trivia, how the Holyhead Harpies were doing this season, the open position at the Ministry for a new Junior Minister of Art, Ginny’s new sketches for a sculpture she wanted to try, and she nodded and laughed in all the right places. Her mind was still running on Fred. She knew all too well how stubborn he could be. _He can’t keep up this attitude towards Draco forever. Although Fred did remind me just last week about that time I broke into the shed and stole his broom when I was eight years old._

It didn’t matter. He’d need to get over it and stop dreaming that she would ever end up with Harry, and that was all there was to it, she decided. _Perhaps it’s time for a few home truths about the Boy Who Lived. But would Fred really understand, or even be willing to hear? Although it’s not as if I’d be trying to convince him that Harry is the Dark Lord returned or any such rubbish, or even simply a hopeless prat, because he’s neither. He’s just… he’s only got so much to give in terms of his emotions, and it’s not enough for me. Maybe nobody could ever have lived up to the expectations the wizarding world placed on him; maybe it wasn’t even fair of me to expect him to handle them better than he has. But I can’t be with someone who seems to have so little regard for who I am, whatever it is that makes me unique, not just an_ _interchangeable partner. I think… I think that Draco could know me, really down to my bones, if I let him. Is that part of the problem? That I’ve never really allowed him to know me in that way, not yet?_

Ginny suddenly realized that Ron had been talking to her for some time. She started. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Oy, earth to Ginny!” Ron jerked a finger down the hall, towards the kitchen. “Mum wants you.”

Ginny looked down the hall to see Molly Weasley beckoning to her. She stifled a sigh. “I’d better see what she wants,” she said to Draco in an undertone.

“Take the other end of the dish, would you, Ginny?” her mother asked as soon as she walked into the kitchen, handing her a hot pad.

“Of course,” said Ginny, helping her mother take the large pan with the ham out of the oven.

“Now the goose,” said Molly. Ginny nodded and assisted her.

They arranged the chestnut dressing, the candied yams, the Yorkshire pudding, and the rolls, all prepared to go out onto the sideboard in the dining room. Barely a word was spoken, but Ginny knew that she wasn’t going to get off so easily. _There’s got to be more to this,_ thought Ginny. _Oh, I wish Mum would just scold me about Draco and get it over with._

Molly finally turned to stand against the counter, facing Ginny, her arms crossed in the unmistakable Weasley confrontational stance. It was almost a relief.

“Well, that’s done,” said Molly. “We’ll be ready in eat in just a few minutes.” She took another sip of the spiked eggnog.

Ginny nodded, her unease rising.

“Ron has brought Cho, I see,” Molly went on.

Ginny nodded again. _Nothing much gets by Mum, does it?_

“I won’t pretend to be happy about that, but I must say that I think he made a better choice than _you_ did.”

Ginny’s heart sank, but she decided to take the snorkack by the horns. There was nothing to be gained by evasion.

“Mum, who did you think I was _going_ to bring?” she asked. “Harry? You already know that we haven’t been together for almost a year.”

“If you must know… I thought that you two would have got past whatever sort of silly tiff you had,” sniffed Molly.

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh? Then what _is_ it like?”

“It’s nothing to do with any sort of specific argument that we did or didn’t have.” Ginny was struggling to keep her voice even by now. “Mum, we’re simply not good as a couple. We never were.”

“But—”

“And besides, he’s with Hermione now.”

“You sound glad about that,” Molly said, her eyes narrowed eyes.

“Yes. I _am_ glad about it. Maybe Hermione will be better for him than I ever could be.”

Molly looked down, and then back up. “You never really were going to bring him, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t,” said Ginny.

Her mother fiddled with the goose on the platter in a way that seemed rather unnecessary. “But of all the men you could choose, I honestly can’t believe you’ve brought _Draco Malfoy_ here. It was such a shock.”

 _Oh, no, it wasn’t_ , thought Ginny, remembering the odd lack of any such emotion on her mother’s face when she’d walked into the front room with Draco. There had been wariness, a sort of resignation, as if Molly Weasley had seen an unpleasant prophecy fulfilled. But shock? No.

“Mum, you _must_ have suspected something along these lines,” Ginny said a bit wearily. “You can’t tell me he was a complete surprise. When we walked into the room, I could tell by your face that it wasn’t. Please, just admit it. You somehow knew that I would be here with Draco Malfoy—no,” she corrected herself. “You didn’t know, but you suspected.”

“Perhaps I did.” Molly took another long drink of eggnog. “If so, I didn’t want to know the truth. And I suppose that’s my own fault, because I could have done.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked guardedly, her mind swiftly running over all the ways that her mother might have learned anything about herself and Draco being together. The two of them had been so careful not to display their relationship to the outside world. She couldn’t even remember which of them had wanted to keep it a secret, but that was exactly what it had always been, this indefinable thing that existed between the two of them. _If Ron ever saw us… but no. He couldn’t have kept that to himself; none of my brothers could have done, and certainly not Dad. What other source of information could Mum have had, though?_

“Ginny, you’d be so much better off if you could only send young Malfoy home now,” said Molly, looking directly at Ginny in a way that made her uneasy.

“But _why_?” she asked.

Molly was silent.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Ginny knew perfectly well what the answer to that question must be.

“Can’t you just trust me?” her mother countered.

“No, I can’t. Not if that’s all you’re going to tell me!”

Molly tightly compressed her lips. Ginny waited for several moments, already knowing that her mother would say nothing more.

**Remember, to find all of the art in the same place, our group is at:<https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>**


	12. The Change In the Portraits

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, bookmarkers, and kudo-ers, especially [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778)

! 😊 

**CHAPTER 12: The Change In the Portraits**

In Draco’s opinion, Ginny had been gone for far too long, much longer than it ought to have taken to simply help her mother in the kitchen. Of course, he wasn’t entirely sure how long this sort of thing took without house-elves. But something about her absence felt wrong in a way he could not define. He had never possessed any gift for clairvoyance, but it almost seemed as if he were developing one now, at least where Ginny was concerned.

 _Something isn’t right here,_ he thought. _What could Ginny’s mother be up to?_ He was afraid that the answer to that question was likely to be all too easy. She was busy convincing her daughter that death by dragon fire would be preferable to dating Draco Malfoy, or even allowing him in her family home for one more second. Would Molly Weasley’s project meet with any success? Simply asking the question sent a cold dart of fear through his chest. The links connecting himself and Ginny suddenly felt so flimsy compared to the firm, strong rope of her family ties. What would she really do if her mother demanded that she choose one above the other? _Surely Ginny wouldn’t_ …

“First Ginny; now you. Is there something about that drafty mausoleum of a manor of yours that makes it impossible for anyone to pay attention when somebody’s talking?” demanded Ron, nudging Draco in the side.

“Oh.” Draco blinked. “I’m terribly sorry. What did you say?”

Ron rolled his eyes in a way that was very reminiscent of Ginny doing exactly the same thing. “Wish I had a Muggle recording device available—nobody will ever believe you said that.”

Draco smiled faintly. “Ginny certainly would. She’s heard me use the ‘s’ word as well.”

“I’m glad.” Ron’s answering smile was crooked, but seemed genuine. “So. Six months, eh? You and my sister?”

Draco glanced around him and saw that Cho was studying a portrait of Harry on the furthest wall with an interest that was clearly feigned. _She already knew Ron was going to start a conversation along these lines_ , he thought.

“Yes,” he said. “Nearly seven, in fact.”

“I imagine Fred and George already told you that if you ever hurt Ginny, they’d hunt you down and kill you like a rabid dog,” Ron said in conversational tones. “Well, George did, anyway; Fred most likely couldn’t get himself to say enough words in your presence to make the threat clear. Just so you know, I’m joining the chorus.”

“Then I’ll give you the same answer I gave to your brother,” said Draco. “If I ever hurt your sister, there would be no need for anything so unseemly. I’d have done away with myself already.”

“Who says romance is dead?” Ron said dryly. “But that’s not all I want to know. I believe that you wouldn’t hurt her deliberately. That’s not even my question.” He looked Draco directly in the eye. “Do you really care about Ginny? Or are you just enjoying her company for a while? Because I’ve heard stories about the way you go through girlfriends, and I don’t want to see my sister cast aside like that. She feels very deeply, which I hope you know. How do you feel about her in return?”

Caught in Ron’s gimlet gaze, Draco could not give an easy answer.

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t believe I can put it into words. But I would never hurt her. I would protect her from anything that could cause her pain. I would give her anything that I could. I…” There had to be a smooth way to finish that sentence, but he could not quite seem to manage it. All of his normal flippant elegance seemed to have deserted him, and he did not know what to say without that veneer. _I didn’t think I could care for any girl, but I do care for her? She stirs up feelings in me that my father never had for my mother, that perhaps no Malfoy has ever had for anyone? She makes me feel perilously weak, as no Malfoy ought ever to feel? There are moments when I wish I had never met her again after Hogwarts, never thought of her as anything but Potter’s annoying girlfriend. She has awoken too much in me that will never return to its peaceful sleep. I believed I didn’t have a heart, but she has brought it to life, and hearts are painful things. But there is nothing I would trade for Ginny Weasley in my life. She is everything to me. And nothing has ever terrified me so deeply._

At the end of the hall, a door slammed. _Ginny,_ thought Draco. _I’ve heard her slam enough doors in the past six months whenever she was royally brassed off at something, generally at me. Nobody slams doors like she does—or opens them. Oh, Ginny, you have pried open a door to my heart that I had locked and sealed, and thrown away the key…_

Ron’s eyes widened in surprise, and Draco had an uncomfortable moment of wonder if perhaps Ginny’s brother was better at Legilimency than he had thought. But then Cho gasped, and he knew that whatever had happened, it must have been more than that.

“Look,” she said in an awed voice, pointing at the portrait above her head.

“They’ve all done it,” said Ron in tones of wonder.

Draco looked around the back hall and saw that every framed picture on every wall had changed to show Ginny. Some were photographs, some drawings, and some oil portraits, but every single one was Ginny.

Ron gave a long sigh. “It’s true, isn’t it,” he said to Draco in gloomy tones.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked warily.

“You really _do_ care about my sister, don’t you?”

Draco nodded, still not quite able to say the words. “You didn’t believe me before this. What brought about this sudden change of heart?” he asked instead.

“The pictures,” said Ron. “They’d never have changed for you otherwise; Mum has some powerful magic on them. They’ve shown nothing but Harry for nearly a week.” His eyes crinkled up at the corners for a moment. “So that means that we’re stuck with you now. My sister, with a Malfoy!”

TBC…

**Remember, to find all of the art in the same place, our group is at:<https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>**


	13. The Unexpected Girlfriend

****

**Thanks to all readers, reviewers, favoriters, and kudo-ers, especially** [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778)

Draco really did not know what to say to Ron’s last words. Ginny’s brother seemed to be assuming feelings on his part that he had yet to confess to the girl herself. Yet did that mean that Ron Weasley was wrong? And if he was right, was he himself ready for such disruption in his world? _Although it’s far too late to avoid that,_ he thought. _Ginny has upended my well-ordered life in the last six months, likely from the moment I first saw her again, certainly from the first night I ever spent in her flat, in her bed…oh, I shouldn’t be thinking about that night while her brother is watching me._ After all, Draco couldn’t be sure that _none_ of the Weasleys had any skill in Legilimency.

“Very possibly,” he said in the most vague way he could muster.

Ron looked at him a bit narrowly. “Well—we’ll talk about that later, Draco,” he said. “But you needn’t think you’ll escape so easily, because you won’t.”

_You’re right about that_ , thought Draco. _It’s certainly too late to escape from your sister. Once, that might very well have been what I wanted to do, after a relationship of six months. But now… no._

Ron turned to Cho. “Want to see my old room before dinner? We’ve got a bit of time.”

Cho frowned. “Are you sure it’s a good idea before your mum’s seen me?”

Ron shrugged. “I want you to see where I’ve grown up, Cho. Mum will have to like it or lump it at some point. Might as well start now.”

She smiled and put her hand in his, and they started towards the stairs at the side of the front room. Draco went to meet Ginny at the other end of the hall. She was turned away and had not seen the pictures, he realized. He wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted Ginny to see the proof of his feelings for her, or at least that he had feelings that he had not yet confessed, not even to himself. It all felt too fresh, too raw, as if a warm blanket would be snatched away with that revelation, suddenly exposing him to a cold wind.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her away from a view of the back hall. “What did you mother say to you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said in a clipped voice.

Perhaps he ought to simply let this go, to allow the potential for strong emotion to pass them by. It was what he would always have done, before knowing Ginny.

“Really. It’s going to be all right. Please, Draco, don’t ask more just now,” she went on through clenched teeth before he was forced to make a decision about pressing her on the matter.

The back door opened, letting in a swirl of icy wind with a touch of snow. George came into the vestibule in the rear, gesturing to someone behind him to remain there.

“Psst!” He crooked a finger towards Draco and Ginny, and they came back into the hall. “Where’s Ron? And Cho?”

“He took her on a tour of the house. What I want to know is, where’s the mysterious girlfriend?” demanded Ginny. “Please tell me you didn’t leave her out in the cold!”

“She’s right behind me under a new Hiding charm; I wanted to scout things out first and see if Mum was watching us with her eagle eye,” said George.

“She’s not, but she won’t be all that much longer in the kitchen either,” said Ginny. “Did you find Fred?”

“I found him, all right,” sighed George. “He’s with Dad in the shed.”

“That’s what Ron said too.” Ginny nodded.

George turned to Draco. “He said he’d told Dad about you, the news suitably draped in dark colors, I’m sure, but he didn’t get much of a reaction. Dad didn’t even seem very surprised, he said. Then Fred muttered something about how you couldn’t trust anybody these days, and how could anyone not know how dangerous it was to allow an… er…”

“Agent of evil to come into your family home?” Draco asked as lightly as he could.

“That’s exactly what George _did_ say.” George gave him a suspicious look. “I’ve heard how good you are at Legilimency, Draco. You’d better not have been reading all our minds.”

“Of course I haven’t been. It doesn’t work that way, and certainly not at a distance,” said Draco.

“Then how did you know what he said?”

“Because that’s what _I_ called Draco the first night we met,” said Ginny, lightly cuffing her brother on the shoulder.

“You’ve changed your mind, I hope!” said George.

“In some ways,” Ginny said softly. “The important ones, that is.” She took Draco’s hand, and the soft warmth of her skin seemed to eddy all the way up into his heart.

“All right, that’s enough of that! I already know it goes on. I just don’t want to have to _see_ it.”

“Fine. Is Fred planning to stay out in the garage through the entire Yule dinner?” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“I think he’ll come back in with Dad,” said George. “Where _is_ Mum, anyway?”

“In the kitchen. She ought to be out pretty soon,” said Ginny, tight-lipped. George looked at her curiously, but clearly decided to ask her no more at the moment.

“All right,” said George. “It’s time for you to meet her.”

“Your new girlfriend? I can’t wait,” said Ginny. She peered behind her brother. “I can’t see a thing. The new Hiding charm must really be good.”

“It’s a Hiding mint, actually. Amaze your friends! Confound your enemies! Avoid that pesky Divination test you didn’t study for!”

“You mean you finally got those to work?” Ginny asked eagerly. “They’ll be so popular!”

“Yes, they’ll bring in loads of money for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,” George said in an abstracted way. “The effect is reversed by a second mint.” He reached into his pocket, took out a small green tablet, and turned behind him, holding in up. The expression on his face softened, became tender, to the point where Draco felt quite uncomfortable witnessing it. The mint disappeared.

A figure shimmered in the faint light and then solidified, wrapped in jacket, hat, and scarf so Draco could not begin to tell who it was. But a feeling of familiarity stirred in him. _I know her,_ he thought. _I’ve seen her before, many times before. But who is she?_

The girl pulled off her hat and scarf and mittens, running her small hands with their manicured nails through her dark hair, revealing a pretty, exotic face with very wide cheekbones and full pink lips.

“ _You_?” Draco asked incredulously.

Pansy Parkinson set her jaw. “Me.”

TBC…

Hey all, I REALLY love the art for this chapter! It’s on the top, but remember, the only way to see ALL of the art in the same place is to check it out at: <https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>


	14. The Assessment

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo-ers, especially [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778)

! 😊

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: The Assessment**

Draco had no idea what to say next, but Pansy had already turned to Ginny. _She understands who she really needs to convince,_ he thought, still reeling with surprise, grateful for the moment’s respite. The two girls stared at each other. Ginny’s expression was impossible to read, but Pansy looked more shy and nervous than he had ever seen her.

“I… hello, Ginny,” Pansy said tentatively, standing very close to George’s side.

“Pansy.” She nodded.

Both were silent for what seemed like an eternity, although it was likely no more than ten seconds.

“I wondered if it might be you,” Ginny finally said.

“Oh.” Pansy fidgeted. “Why?”

Ginny shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure. I didn’t see you together, or anything like that, but I had a feeling. So you’re my brother’s mysterious girlfriend.”

“And?” Pansy asked.

“And what?” Ginny surveyed Pansy. “Do you need my approval?”

“Yes. I think I do,” Pansy said. 

“I don’t know about that. George can make up his own mind.”

“I should say I can! Sis, if you think--” George began indignantly.

Pansy squeezed his hand, and he fell silent. They had a language without words, thought Draco with an odd pang. He wasn’t sure if he and Ginny shared that or not, or how he might feel about it if they did.

“But I do need you to accept us,” Pansy said. “And if you want to throw me out of the house, I’d like to know it right now.”

A smile played around the corner of Ginny’s lips. ”No, I don’t,” she said. “But if you want honesty, I’ll tell you that I can’t vouch for Mum.”

Pansy sighed. “It’s about Harry Potter, isn’t it?” When Ginny hesitated, she went on. “Mrs. Weasley still blames me for what happened almost four years ago, when Potter went out and almost got himself killed by the D—I mean, Voldemort. Doesn’t she?”

Ginny nodded. “I’m not saying this makes any sense, but I’m afraid it’s true.” A pause. “I didn’t say _I_ blamed you.”

Pansy gnawed briefly at her lower lip, then seemed to come to a decision. “So you don’t hate me for wanting Potter to man up and take some responsibility back at Hogwarts in the middle of the last battle?”

“That’s nice and frank!” Ginny smiled “I certainly don’t. I mean, I _remember_ it, very clearly. But you shouldn’t have had to call him out in front of the entire school to begin with. He ought to have gone to fight Voldemort ages before that. If he had, then maybe Fred wouldn’t have been so badly hurt…” She shivered. Draco knew what she was thinking about. In the last battle, Fred had been hit by a Killing curse that had gone slightly astray. It had taken him months to truly recover.

“I don’t have any hard feelings at all.” Before Pansy could react, Ginny stepped forward and gave her a quick embrace. The other girl’s dark eyes flew open wide.

“I’m glad you’re here, actually,” Ginny said simply. “But I’ve got to talk strategy with George now.” She turned back to her brother, and Draco was facing Pansy. He groaned inwardly. It was clearly time for the private conversation he would rather have sidestepped at the moment. He had avoided his oldest friend for six months, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that he would not get out of this particular situation without explaining why. In truth, he was not entirely sure himself, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his reasons were less than noble.

TBC…

Remember, to see the art for the chapters, go to Facebook and search for @DracoandGinnydotcom. I know it's a short chapter, but more is coming soon!


	15. The Friends' Reunion

**Chapter Fifteen: The Friends’ Reunion.**

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo-ers, especially [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778)

! 😊

The door rattled, letting in a swirl of even colder wind under the bottom. Draco decided that the after-dinner Quidditch game was most likely off. Pansy stared at him, her broad cheekbones flushed, her slanted dark eyes snapping, her glossy black hair tumbling down over her shoulders in a more casual style than he had ever seen it. Everything about her seemed closer to the surface, somehow, more accessible than it had in the past. He wondered if that was because of George’s influence.

“Pansy…” he fumbled, unsure of what to say, or how to begin saying it.

“Don’t tell me; let me guess.” Pansy put her hands on her hips. “You thought I was the last person George Weasley would be dating?”

Draco felt a certain shameful relief that this would apparently be the first topic of conversation, at least. “That more or less sums it up,” admitted Draco, trying for a light tone. “I’d say that I could picture him with the giant squid more easily, but…”

“How flattering.” Pansy’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s not what I meant,” he protested rather feebly. They’d been able to joke with each other so easily once; those days seemed to be past.

Pansy crossed her arms. “Is that why you haven’t talked to me since the Pureblood Ball? Because you don’t think I’m good enough for Ginny’s brother?”

_So much for distraction,_ he thought.

“No, of course not. That’s not it at all.”

“Why haven’t you, then?”

“Why didn’t _you_ tell me about George Weasley?” Draco countered.

“I…” Pansy glanced away. "Look, it's not as simple as you think, all right?"

Draco stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Because you were ashamed to let me know?”

Color rose in her cheeks like a sudden flame. “No! There are other reasons, and they’re to do with my family—but that’s another story. But what about you, Draco, were you, _are_ you ashamed of Ginny?” she whispered.

“Never,” he said without thinking.

She put her hands on her hips. “Then why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why have you kept it a secret?”

Draco sighed, feeling tired suddenly. “Pansy… I can’t explain. You must know…” How could he finish the sentence? _You must know how it is for people like us?_ He wasn’t entirely sure that she did. The Parkinsons were an old pureblood family, but they had never demanded the same level of utter emotional repression that the Malfoys had always done.

“Perhaps for the same reasons you told no-one about George,” Draco said in a very low voice. “Perhaps not. But not because I was ashamed of her; not because I don’t… care for her. Can you understand, Pansy?”

“I suppose I can,” she said, her face softening. “A bit, at least. Poor Draco.”

“I don’t need your pity.” He did his best to sound lordly, perfectly aware that he was in what Ginny had always called upper-class twit mode.

“Oh, I don’t feel sorry for you in the least.” Pansy half-smiled and smacked his arm. “

“That’s enough!” Draco winced. “You don’t need to convince me how hard you can hit, Pansy. I’ve known that since you attacked me when we were both five years old and I said I wasn’t going to marry you when we grew up.”

Her smile widened. “And it’s a good thing we didn’t, Draco, don’t you think?”

“I do indeed.” He smiled in return, and he knew that this was a friend he had missed.

“Did you really not have any idea?” asked Pansy.

“I learned today that he was with a former Slytherin, which narrowed down the candidates. But I never would have guessed it was you.” He hesitated. “So how is your family taking this?”

Pansy’s fingers played with the fastenings of her coat. “Not well. I think they’re a bit resigned to it now. But Dad made me promise not to tell anyone else until—well, until our problems are over with, one way or another, and I agreed.”

Draco nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. The Parkinsons had never been seriously involved with Voldemort, never truly in the inner circle, but they had been assigned blame anyway. Their case was going through the Wizengamot and would be decided within a month. Criminal prosecution was unlikely, but their home and assets might very well be seized.

“If George and I can survive this, we can make it through anything.” Pansy’s smile had still not left her lips.

“How long have you been together?”

“Six months. Yes; I know, it’s a record for me.”

“But is he… er… right for you?” Draco asked a trifle dubiously.

Pansy laughed. “He’s probably all wrong, Draco; I do realize that. But he’s very, very special. That’s all I can really say. We’ve had to keep it a complete secret, but I hope you understand the reason why a bit better now.”

“I do. I’m, ah, sorry about that. And don’t tell me that history has never recorded the apology of a Malfoy!” Draco grimaced slightly. A thought struck him. “If you and George have been together for six months, then that was two months before the Pureblood Ball this year.”

She nodded. “Just as you were with Ginny for the same amount of time before the Ball. We were each other’s beards, I suppose, but neither of us knew it.”

“If I helped you at all, then I’m glad,” Draco said sincerely. “But what I can’t understand is why _I_ didn’t figure it out without being told. My sleuthing skills ought to be better than that.”

She smiled. “You’ve were a bit distracted by Ginny, weren’t you? More than a bit? And you have been ever since.”

“I certainly have,” he admitted.

They stood in a companionable silence beneath the stairwell, hearing George and Ginny talking in low voices at the far end of the back hall. Perhaps he and Pansy could truly be friends again, thought Draco, as they’d been during their childhoods, before adult expectations were forced upon them.

“It’s hard, isn’t it, loving one of the Weasleys?” Pansy asked.

Draco could only stare at her. “Er…”

“That’s all right. You don’t need to answer that question yet.” She glanced at Ginny and George. “I suppose it’s almost time for Yule dinner, which means that the big introduction scene can’t be far off for me. How did it go for you?”

Draco smirked. “Molly Weasley led me into a room filled with portraits of Potter, if that gives you any idea. It went downhill from there.”

Pansy shuddered. “Was this a good idea? Coming to the Burrow at all, I mean? George wanted me to be here, but I just don’t know.”

“Maybe it isn’t. I’m not at all sure whether I should be here, either. But it’s too late now.”

“Dinner should be interesting,” Pansy muttered. 

“That may be too mild a word. We can count on George and Ron, but I sincerely hope that the rest of the Weasleys won’t attack us with the carving knife.”

“Yes, I’d rather avoid that as well,” Pansy said dryly. She twisted her fingers together in an uncharacteristic gesture. Draco thought that he had never seen his childhood friend looking so uncertain.

_*I just know that I’ll end up regretting this,*_ thought Draco. “I’ll go in first, with Ginny. How would that be? You hang back a bit with George.”

Pansy’s eyes widened “I’ve never known you to be so brave.”

“Oh, do dry up,” he muttered. “It comes from hanging about with Gryffindors too long, I have no doubt. But at least Mrs. Weasley already knows that I’m here. I’ll smooth the way, and then you can come out.”

TBC…

There’s New Year’s Eve D/G art in our group! Facebook: search for @DracoandGinnydotcom


	16. The Doubts of Draco Malfoy

**Thanks to all readers, reviewers, followers, and kudo-ers, especially** [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778) **!** **😊**

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: The Doubts of Draco Malfoy**

“All right.” Pansy glanced at the gold watch on her wrist. “Ten minutes since I ate the second mint… it takes a bit of time for the Hiding sweets to completely wear off, so I’m not even sure if the rest of the Weasleys could see me yet, at least not properly. There are times when whoever ate the mint can’t even hear what other people are saying until it’s worn off. A few more minutes, I would say.”

“They seem to be interesting little items,” said Draco. “But how effectively will they work if you can’t be sure when you’ll be fully visible again?”

“Oh, George is still working out a few bugs. He’s at the end of this batch with only a couple left, and he’s going to try some tweaks on the next run of the mints. There are only a few left.” She rummaged in the pocket of her skirt. “Here, why don’t you take these? You can never tell when they might come in useful.”

“If Ginny and I need to run for our lives from crazed Weasleys, you mean?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“It can’t hurt to have the option,” said Pansy.

Draco took the small, wrapped candies. A thought struck him. “If you’re not sure the spell has worn off yet, then why can _I_ see and hear you?”

“It seems to depend on if the people involved are close,” said Pansy. “That might mean a family relationship, romance, or love, or simply deep friendship.”

“You have always been my friend, Pansy,” Draco said quietly.

She laughed. “Now who’s getting soppy? A Malfoy actually admitting to a feeling, fancy that!”

“Don’t let it get around,” said Draco, already half regretting his words.

“You need to do the same thing for Ginny,” said Pansy. “Admit to your feelings for her, I mean.”

“How do you know I haven’t already?” he asked guardedly.

“Because I know you,” said Pansy. “But you do need to.”

“That’s enough, Pans,” said Draco, wishing desperately to change the subject. He walked back towards Ginny, seeing how George’s eyes lit up when he saw Pansy again, as if some other half of himself had returned. Did Ginny look the same when she saw him? He wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to show what she felt, either.

“So have you worked it all out?” George asked Draco.

“Two Slytherins? Are you joking?” Pansy giggled. “We came up with all sorts of evil plans.

“Just how evil were they?” Ginny asked Draco.

“Not at all, really,” he replied. “I believe that my days of plotting and scheming are done.”

“You’ll never make me believe that.”

“Well, when it comes to sheer _evil,_ anyway, I think they are.”

She smiled, and her face warmed to him. It was one of the expressions he loved to see most on Ginny’s face, gentle and unguarded, and he suddenly wished that they were alone. However, they were not, as he was all too aware. He turned back to the other two.

“I’m afraid the sinister plans consist of Ginny and I moving towards the dining room first, because at least I’m a known quantity. Then you—” he indicated George. “Can introduce Pansy to your mother. It might be better if we don’t create the impression that I’m with her. Evil Slytherins working together, and all that.”

George nodded. “It’s workable. Let me think about it a bit. Say, let’s get you out of that, Pans.” He began to help Pansy remove her coat.

“Are you sure I should take this off in the first place?” she sighed. “Maybe we’d better be ready to make a quick getaway.”

“None of that,” George said firmly. “Mum is going to have to accept the fact that you’re here for Yule dinner as my girlfriend, and so will everyone else, and that’s the end of it.” He hung the coat on a hook.

Draco thought that Ginny looked far from sure about the success of her brother’s project, but she said nothing. But something else sent a pang through his chest too. Ginny hadn’t spoken up when her brother said that the family must accept Pansy as his chosen partner. She hadn’t echoed his words, hadn’t said that she felt the same way about Draco himself, that she would not tolerate the situation if they didn’t accept him. Did she assume that he already understood this? Or had she failed to say these things because she had no plans to place Draco above her family’s comfort? What would she really do if the Weasleys finally did reject him and weren’t willing to allow him to sit at the table for Yule dinner? _Dear gods, but this is the last thing I need to be thinking about right now!_

“I gave Draco the last two mints,” said Pansy, breaking into his thoughts, “but maybe I ought to take them back.”

George shook his head. “Oh no, you won’t. But I think I ought to give a couple of them to Ginny as well.” He handed his sister two wrapped mints, and she pocketed them, looking uneasy.

“So what exactly will we do?” Ginny asked George.

“You and Draco will start going down the hall first, and stop when you get to that landing,” he answered, “and hopefully, the dining room won’t split in half.” He frowned. “That’s what happened at Lughnasa dinner in August, you know.”

“I wasn’t here for that,” said Ginny.

“Yes, I know.” He gave his sister a sly smile. “I know where you actually were, and who you were with, or at least now I can guess. Anyway, I was stranded on one side with Fred and Charlie, and Mum and Dad and Ron were on the other. The room seemed to be trying to make up its mind if it was going to change into something else or not, but the real problem was that we kept hearing these strange _roars_. I still don’t know if they were real. Mum and Dad think not. But if they were, well, they were moving towards that side. If the roars had been on ours, and if a dragon actually had shown up, then Charlie could have calmed him in seconds. He was up in Svarlbard, though. Still there, actually, and he said that he wasn’t sure he could get back in time for the dinner tonight.” He squeezed Pansy’s hand. “I really want you to meet him, Pans. Perhaps he’ll get here early.”

“ _Dragon_?” asked Draco, hoping that his voice didn’t tremble.

George shrugged. “Hard to say. We’ve heard the roars twice now, or at least that’s what they seem to be. It’s rather odd, because we never see the dragon, but the problem is that we can’t be sure it’ll never appear. To tell you the truth, I’ve tried to convince Mum that we shouldn’t use the dining room at all, but… trying to convince a Weasley of anything they don’t want to hear is a lost cause from the outset.”

“Oh, I know what you mean, trust me,” said Ginny.

Feeling a bit sullen, Draco wondered exactly what she meant by _that._

“The two halves of the room reunited in about twenty minutes,” George went on. “So it all came right in the end, and it hasn’t happened since. But if that dragon ever actually did show up…” He glanced at Draco. “Are you any good at calming down dragons?

Draco shook his head. “I can assure you, it doesn’t go with the name. You don’t want to know about the dragon taming incident on my ninth birthday.” He remembered the dubious attempt to tame Orion, the dragon that roamed the deepest dungeons of Malfoy Manor. It had not been a rousing success, although he supposed that at least the dragon had recognized him as the Malfoy heir and hadn’t eaten him before he ever had a chance to attend Hogwarts.

“I suppose that would have been a bit too much to ask.” George glanced down the hall. Draco followed his gaze and saw that the door from the kitchen was opening.

George pulled Pansy back under the stairwell, where the two of them would be hidden in shadow. “Go out to meet her, Gin,” he whispered to his sister. “See if you can get Mum in a really good mood.”

“That’ll take a genuine Yuletide miracle,” sighed Ginny, “But I’ll try.”

Molly Weasley stepped out into the hall holding a glass of eggnog, a rigid smile on her face. Ginny tugged at Draco’s hand, and the pair began to walk forward in order to meet her on the landing that led to the dining room on the other side. At the same moment, Draco heard steps clattering down the stairs to the front hall and then moving towards the landing.

Molly stared at Ron and Cho coming towards them, hand in hand, and her smile became more fixed than ever.

“Why, what a surprise to see Cho Chang here,” she said in a brittle voice.

A muscle in Ron’s jaw jumped against his skin. “Yes. This is Cho, my girlfriend. And Mum, you’ve known about this for at least a week. Don’t you think it’s time to stop pretending that you had no idea?”

Molly surveyed Cho for a moment. “How very nice to see you, dear,” she finally said.

“Uh, I’m very glad to be here, Mrs. Weasley,” said Cho. “You have such a lovely home.”

“Thank you, dear. Perhaps you can have a nice tour of the house after dinner.”

“I’d love it.”

Draco surveyed Molly Weasley as the meaningless social chatter went on, trying to gauge her real response. Everything about that moment was bright and artificial, and he didn’t believe for a moment that she was genuinely happy to see Cho Chang in her house. But Ginny’s mother had clearly decided to accept her as Ron’s partner, which gave Draco a bit of hope. _Perhaps she really will do the same thing for me, and for Pansy. If we can manage common courtesy for a few hours, that will be a beginning. But a beginning to what?_

Draco realized that he was thinking as if this would be only the first of many visits to Ginny’s childhood home. In all honesty—and he had always been honest with himself, however much he might fail in the quality towards others—he was not sure how he felt about that idea. Was he ready to brave such animosity on a regular basis? Or was he prepared to insist that Ginny’s entire family treat him with more than the barest possible veneer of manners? Neither option seemed particularly appealing. _Perhaps I really would be better off fighting that dragon, if it exists at all…_

He glanced surreptitiously around the room as Molly, Cho, and Ron continued to talk. All of the portraits had changed back to Harry, he saw. It was not the most pleasant sight, in his opinion. Although he doubted it would have bothered him much if only Ginny would say something. She held his hand in hers, but she remained silent.

TBC…

Remember, to see the art for each chapter, go to:<https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>





	17. The Rejection

**This is probably my favorite New Year's art (that I've ever done, anyway!) for Draco and Ginny on Jan. 1st. She has a hangover; he's waaaay too enthusiastic.**

**Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo-ers, especially** [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778) **!!** **😊** **I really like this chapter… we start to find out what’s really going on at the Burrow, and so does Draco.**

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Rejection**

A blast of cold wind eddied through the hall. Ginny shivered, and Draco wished that he could put his arms around her. He gauged the mood of the room and decided that it wouldn’t be the best idea. Molly Weasley was chatting pleasantly enough with Ron and Cho at the moment, but there was still an odd quality to her careful politeness, one he could not quite define. Her pleasant smiles and laughing voice seemed stretched, somehow, like a precarious bridge that might break at any moment. _And she doesn’t even know that Pansy is here yet,_ he thought uncomfortably.

The door opened, and two men took off their coats and then started walking down the hall. One was Fred, and other was a rather tired-looking man with slightly thinning red hair.

“Dad!” Ginny hugged her father when he reached them. “You finally got Fred out of the shed, I see. I’m glad.”

“I could still go back there at any time,” mumbled Fred, in a voice that was just low enough to allow everyone to pretend that they hadn’t heard him.

If Malfoys ever did anything as tacky as squirming uncomfortably under the penetrating gaze of a girlfriend’s father, then Draco knew that he would have been doing so. Since no Malfoy had likely ever done such a thing, however, he was quite sure that he couldn’t possibly be doing it now.

“Mr. Weasley,” he said. “I’m, er, very glad to meet you.”

Ginny’s father studied him, and Draco realized that he had underestimated both of her parents before he ever met them. This man was not the bumbling fool that Lucius Malfoy had always scornfully labeled him. Now that Draco was closer to Mr. Weasley than he had ever been in his life, he could see the intelligence in the older man’s eyes. They saw far more than he would have liked, perhaps even saw things that he himself would rather have kept secret, and the knowledge was not comfortable.

“Draco,” he said. “I’m happy to meet you as well. Welcome to our home.”

Draco realized something else. Although he did not have the least idea why, Arthur Weasley meant what he said to a far greater degree than his wife did. In spite of the years of animosity between Ginny’s father and his own, this man did not seem to harbor that emotion towards Draco himself.

Watching them, Molly Weasley’s eyes narrowed. Draco didn’t need to use Legilimency to see that her husband’s more positive feelings in his own direction were not pleasing to her. He wondered if that came purely from what was going on in the moment, or if it was colored by a past he knew nothing about.

“Well,” Ginny’s mother said briskly. “Dinner will be served soon. I don’t know where George has got to, but we may as well all go into the dining room.” She began to usher them all out of the vestibule and towards the half-open door, where Draco could see a large room with a long table. For the first time, he noticed something a bit odd. The edge of the vestibule was clearly marked with a sort of threshold a few feet in front of the door, a long, narrow tile inlay with twisting blue geometric designs. He instantly recognized them as written spells, although he was not sure of exactly what they meant. _Protection, perhaps? Binding? Excluding? What an odd place for them to be located._ Now that he thought of it, he believed that he remembered seeing a tile like this one at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the first floor of the house, too, and the memory made him a bit uneasy. _I’m sure that it’s only a decoration. At any rate, there’s no time to worry about it now._ He began to walk the few steps towards the door, still holding Ginny’s hand.

“Wait a moment, Mum!” George called from the other end of the hall. “Don’t go in yet. The Hiding mint’s almost worn off, and then I want you to meet--”

At that moment, Draco started to step over the tile, and everything seemed to happen at once.

A wall snapped up in front of him, shooting up from the tile, invisible but solid. He bounced against it and staggered back. The air around him shimmered with spells. Ginny gave a cry of alarm and grabbed at his arm, but the wall seemed to dissolve when she touched its surface, and she lost her balance and nearly fell. Her father, only a step behind, lunged forward to catch her, and he too moved through the wall. But when Draco tried to move through the shimmering air, to get to Ginny, the wall snapped into existence again and sent a crackling shock through his hands.

“I’m all right,” said Ginny as Fred and her father lifted her up from the floor. “But Draco—” Her brow furrowed. “Can’t you get through?”

He tried pressing at the wall again, and received another painful shock at the attempt. “No,” he said through gritted teeth. “I can’t.” Whatever this wall might be, it was a barrier to himself and nobody else.

Draco raised his head to meet Molly Weasley’s eyes; she had somehow ended up on the other side as well. Her expression held no surprise at all. _I don’t understand a single thing about what’s going on here, but Molly Weasley does,_ he realized. _And she knew that this would happen._

**Remember, all of the art for each chapter is at:<https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>**


	18. The Choice Ginny Made

****

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: The Choice Ginny Made**

**Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo-ers, especially** [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778) **!!** **😊**

“What?” Fred looked confused, and then he laughed. “This is perfect, Malfoy! Even the house doesn’t like you!”

But Draco did not care what Fred Weasley said. He kept watching Molly Weasley’s unsurprised eyes.

“Fred—that’s enough!” Ron said sharply.

“It’s enough, all right. It couldn’t be better _._ Now we don’t need to deal with Malfoy at dinner at all. I take back everything nasty I ever said about this drafty old heap of a house. You all right, Gin?” He was helping his sister to her feet, Cho on her other side.

“Yes, I’m fine. Draco…” Ginny reached out a hand through the space between them and took his fingers. But when she tried to pull him through, the invisible wall snapped up again, sparking painfully. She winced, but she did not drop his hand. He looked at her mother again.

_Molly Weasley is relieved,_ he thought. _Perhaps she wasn’t sure that this wall would keep me out, but she knew it might, and she hoped that it would._

“Be quiet, Fred,” said Molly. She turned to Draco and gave him a tight, triumphant smile. “I’m terribly sorry, Draco. I’m not quite sure what has happened. But it seems as if a barrier has sprung up.”

“Why has this happened, Molly?” Arthur quietly asked his wife. _He doesn’t seem entirely surprised either,_ Draco realized.

She shrugged. “It’s impossible to say. These old houses can be so odd… my great-grandfather assisted in building the Burrow originally, did you know that? No? Well, he became quite eccentric about that same time, and goodness knows what strange features he may have added.” She turned to Ginny, who had taken out her wand and was now trying various Opening spells on the wall, all without success.

“I don’t believe there’s anything to be done about it just now,” said Molly.

Ginny’s brows snapped together. “Mum, what on earth are you talking about? I’m not going to leave Draco standing out in the corridor!”

“Of course not,” said Molly. “Perhaps he could return home, to the Manor.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” put in Fred.

Ron looked uncertain, glancing back and forth between Fred and Ginny’s faces.

“The two of you can see each other tomorrow, Ginny,’ said Molly, continuing to smile. Draco knew that her pleasant façade was just barely under control. Something was lurking beneath the surface, and it would take very little to trigger a breakthrough.

“Molly, you’re being ridiculous,” Arthur said in an undertone.

“Oh? Am I?” She took another long drink of eggnog. “I don’t think so. No, I don’t think so at all. Perhaps this is for the best.”

“That’s unfair,” he said quietly.

She looked up at her husband, and the façade seemed about to crack. “You don’t know anything about it,” she said.

“I know that Draco is not his father, nor his grandfather,” he replied.

“No. You simply don’t know what you’re talking about, Arthur.”

Ginny groaned. “Oh, Mum… what on earth is this all about?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. _You_ don’t know, either,” Molly said steadily to her daughter. “No-one else does. The things I could tell you about the Malfoys… oh, you have no idea.”

“But you’re not actually going to tell me anything, are you.” Ginny’s words to her mother were a statement, not a question.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” demanded Ron.

“Some horrible secret about that evil family, I’m sure. Why am I not surprised?” Fred snickered.

“You need to trust me,” Molly said to Ginny. “And you need to come into the dining room with your family.”

Standing at the edge of the barrier, a foot on each side of it, Molly reached her hand out to Ginny, who said nothing. She would need to drop Draco’s hand in order to take it, which she did not do. But she did nothing else, either.

Ginny was not going to defend him. She was not going to do _anything_ for him, or with him. Instead, she would do as her mother wished. In that moment, Draco was sure of it. Ginny would sigh, and look sad, and walk into the dining room with her family, leaving him on the other side of the barrier. His horrible fantasies started to spin out of control. She wouldn’t return his owls. She wouldn’t answer the door when he knocked. He would finally force himself to use a Muggle self one, or whatever they were called, in a desperate attempt to reach her, but it would do no good. She would ignore him. Then, she would doubtless do her best to put him out of her mind, or to think of him only as a mistake.

True, Ginny might never be able to really _forget_ him, but only because he was the man he had chosen as her first lover. She never would have waited until the age of nearly nineteen to do that unless physical intimacy meant something to her. But Draco Malfoy would be no more than a bittersweet memory, at best, whenever she bothered to spare him a thought.

_No,_ he thought. _That can’t be true. I’ve got to stop thinking this way; I can’t let these terrible ideas take over my mind… Ginny would never behave that way towards me, never… or would she…_

“Take my hand, Ginny,” said Molly.

Ginny was shaking her head minutely, chewing at her lower lip, and her hand trembled in his. Her fingers seemed to be disengaging themselves, slipping away, moving towards her mother.

Draco felt his back stiffen. _It’s true_ , he thought. _It’s all true. Ginny really is going to take her mother’s hand, she’s going to leave me here, and then she will never speak to me again. It’s all one to me. To hell with this cold bitch. I don’t need her; I don’t need anyone._

For an instant, he was possessed by a roaring cold rage, and he felt the essence of the cruel, arrogant, insecure boy he had once been flood all through him. For that one moment, his heart was as dark and twisted as it had ever been. He was the twelve-year-old snob who had hurled insults as Ginny Weasley passionately defended Harry Potter, and who later said that he hoped that the basilisk killed Hermione Granger. He was the sixteen-year-old who had been proud to receive the Dark Mark burned into his flesh. That boy had cared about Ginny Weasley, yes, but not for any noble reason, to say the least. He tried never to think about that time, now that he and Ginny were together, whatever that togetherness might mean, but the memories threatened to flood his mind. He struggled to keep them back. _Now is not the time! I won’t show weakness. Even if they throw me out into the snow, I will behave as a Malfoy should, and long past time for that, too. I ought to have known better than to ever come here._ For a fleeting instant, he even wished that he knew how to summon Orion, the Malfoy dragon. _If there were only some way to make sure he attacked everyone except for Ginny…_

Then Ginny squeezed his hand firmly, interlacing her fingers with his as if turning a key in a lock. He jumped at the sensation, his mind reeling.

“No. If Draco can’t come in to eat dinner with us, then I’ll leave as well,” she said calmly. “Goodbye, Mum.”

“You—what? What on earth are you talking about?” Her mother looked at her blankly.

“If he can’t go into the dining room, then neither will I,” said Ginny.

“You can’t possibly mean that you’re going to leave with him!”

“That’s just what I mean,” said Ginny, stepping through the invisible wall to stand at Draco’s side.

“But there’s nothing to keep you from seeing him tomorrow. For tonight, you’ll simply eat with us.”

Ginny shook her head.

Molly drained her glass. “Don’t you dare ruin Yule dinner, Ginevra! I will not tolerate-- ”

“Mum, I really think you’ve had enough eggnog.” Ginny reached her other hand out.

Molly snatched her own hand away. “No. No. Get into this dining room, _now_.” Her eyes blazed fiercely, anger clearly bubbling just beneath the surface and barely held in check.

“Finally!” exclaimed George’s voice from the hall. “I can’t believe we _both_ got stuck under the Hiding mints. I couldn’t even hear anything for at least ten minutes-- I really need to work out a few bugs before we start selling those things in the shop.” He strode towards them with a huge smile.

Even through the warmth radiating from Ginny’s hand, the incredulous joy that she had chosen him, that she was standing by him, the proof that he must matter to her, Draco still felt a chill. _Oh, this will not go well._

“Mum, I want you to meet my girlfriend,” he announced, holding Pansy’s hand. “Well, you _know_ her, but you haven’t exactly _met_ her before. Pansy Parkinson. Uh, remember Pansy?”

At the look in Molly Weasley’s eyes, Draco had no doubt at all that she did.

**Remember, all of the art for each chapter is at:<https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>**

  
  



	19. The Separation

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: The Separation**

**Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and kudo-ers, especially** [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778) **!!** **😊**

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” Pansy said tentatively.

Molly was already shaking her head. “No,” she said flatly.

George sighed. “Look, Mum, I know that this is a, er, surprise. But you’re just going to have to accept it. Pansy Parkinson is my girlfriend, and she’s going to start coming to this house.”

“ _No_ ,” she repeated.

George gritted his teeth. “Mum. I know I should’ve told you earlier, but It’s my fault, so put the blame on me, not Pansy. -do calm down, please--”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down!” She slammed the glass down on a side table so hard that the stem snapped off.

George’s eyes widened with alarm. “Oy, Fred! Help me out here!”

Fred actually looked alarmed as well, which was something that Draco was quite sure he had never seen from that more outgoing Weasley twin.

“Mum, maybe you really should take it down a notch,” Fred said. “I know; we have an invasion of Slytherins on our hands, but it won’t do any good to lose our tempers, will it?”

Molly began clenching and unclenching her hands into fists. Arthur laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Molly, no matter what you think of the Malfoys—and never mind what that might be, or why-- Pansy Parkinson has nothing to do with this,” he said quietly.

That was the last straw. Draco saw it clearly. Molly whirled on her husband.

“She nearly got Harry Potter killed!” she screeched. “He almost died at Voldemort’s hands, and it would have been all her fault! That girl goaded him into going out to fight!” She stabbed a finger at Pansy, who stood frozen, spots of color in her cheeks. “And now she and that— _Draco Malfoy_ have schemed and plotted to get into our house, taking advantage of Ginny and George—”

“Mum, that’s enough. I can’t listen to you speak about Pansy that way.” George’s face darkened. 

“And it’s nonsense. Draco didn’t take advantage of me,” snapped Ginny.

Molly gave a shrill, eerie laugh. “Oh, didn’t he?” She bent close to Ginny, and Draco could smell the firewhisky on her breath. “You poor, poor thing. You don’t even know. You don’t realize. The Malfoys always take advantage of the Weasleys. Every single time. Do you think I don’t know how he seduced you?”

“Oh, Mum, do you _really_ have to talk about—” Fred began to groan.

“That’s how all the Malfoy men are,” she spat. For the first time since the explosion began, she looked directly at Draco, and he was shaken by the blazing emotions in her eyes, misery and longing and anger and regret, all aimed at someone else who was not present. But he himself represented the closest substitute for whatever this mysterious target of her rage actually was. “You are the same as all the rest,” she hissed. “Get away from my daughter! No, you won’t have her! She’s one Weasley girl who won’t fall under the Malfoy spell!”

She made a wild grab for Ginny’s arm and actually managed to drag her away from Draco. He was so stupefied that he could only gape at the pair of them for a moment. Then Draco started to lunge for Ginny, but Molly had pushed her onto the other side of the wall, and he smacked into its hard, stinging surface.

And then the wall shot up into the air and down into the ground, snapping the vestibule in half. The floor wobbled and shook. A loud roar filled the air.

“Mum, I _told_ you that dragon was real!” yelled George.

The floor suddenly broke up with a series of loud cracking noises, breaking up into solid, separate pieces, like islands. Arthur, George, and Pansy stood on one of them, and it began steadily moving away from the vestibule. Ron grabbed for George, Cho running with him, and they were pulled onto the same island, which began to move faster away from the other side. Fred, George, Arthur, and Ron were all yelling, Pansy and Cho were screaming, but they drifted relentlessly into a sort of mist and then stopped. Draco could still see them all, but he could no longer hear any of their shouts and cries.

The dragon—if there really were one in the first place—sounded as if it had to be on his side. Ginny and her mother were on the other side. on a smaller moving patch of floor, and the roaring was moving towards them. Draco thought as swiftly as he had ever done in his life. The chasm between them was much too far to jump.

But there was one chance.

Suddenly, he knew what to do, indeed, the only thing that could be done.

“Ginny!” he shouted. “The mints! You’ve got to take one and give her the other!”

“No, I’m going to come back and fight with you!” she yelled to him.

“You can’t—the dragon is between us. And it’s too far to jump. If the Hiding mint will really shield you, then it ought to protect against the dragon seeing, smelling, or hearing either of you. It will move away, and you’ll be safe.”

“Draco, I won’t leave you!” Her face was desperate, and through the horror of that insane moment, his heart swelled.

“You’ve got to. You need to think of your mother, Ginny,” he went on, relentlessly. “Everyone else is separated from you, but you’ve got to protect her.”

Molly’s face twisted at his words. He doubted that she wanted his protection. * _Too damn bad, Mrs. Weasley. You’re going to get it.*_

Ginny popped a mint between her lips and then shoved one into her mother’s mouth. The air around them wavered, and they disappeared. But the moment before Molly Weasley vanished, Draco saw a expression of terrible sadness crossing Arthur Weasley’s face from where he stood on the larger island. Then the floor shook beneath his feet, he felt himself dropping into a space below where they had been standing, and there was no more time to think about anything but the danger facing them all.

He got his breath back and tried to take stock of the situation. They were now in a large, enclosed room of some sort, as far as he could tell, with a roughly paved floor beneath their feet. Mists drifted through the space, obscuring the walls and ceiling. It was impossible to see anything clearly even a few feet in front of their faces. But it seemed familiar somehow, even though Draco didn’t know why. He had a feeling that figuring that point out would need to wait. The roaring of the dragon seemed to be coming closer.

“Sod it, George _said_ this would happen,” groaned Fred next to him. “I hate it when he’s proven right. He’ll gloat for months.”

“He won’t have the chance if we don’t survive this in the first place, which I’d prefer to do.” Draco took a deep breath. “We’ve got to somehow draw the dragon away from the others.”

Fred squinted at Draco as if he had turned into some kind of unbelievable freak.

“If you’ve got a better plan, I’d love to hear it,” Draco snapped.

“Of course I don’t have one,” said Fred. “That’s the only thing we _can_ do. But aren’t Malfoys supposed to be a pack of cowards?”

“It’s hardly a requirement,” said Draco through clenched teeth. “And if it were only you, it might be a different case. But there are others to consider. Ginny and your mother are safe, but we have no way of knowing if that dragon will turn around and go after everyone else.”

“You’re a deal more honest than I ever thought you were at school, anyway,” said Fred, glancing uneasily around him. “But I don’t need your help. I can, uh, handle a dragon by myself.” The particularly loud roar drowning out the end of his sentence made the idea seem less than convincing.

“Don’t be a bloody idiot, Weasley! Using the surname was easier when Fred was the only Weasley within shouting distance, thought Draco. An idea struck him. “Didn’t you say that your older brother Charlie might get here in time for dinner.”

“Well, obviously he didn’t!”

“But could he be nearby?”

“It’s possible.”

“And he’s the dragon tamer, so he’d clearly be helpful here….” Draco mused. “I think that I can call him with a blood-bound spell as long as you’re here. It’s wandless.”

“You _think_ you can?” Fred raised his eyebrows.

“I can’t be sure, and it won’t work if he’s more than a few miles away, but it’s the only option I can come up with at the moment that might actually help us. Do you want me to try it, or not?”

Fred still hesitated.

“Would you really rather be eaten by a dragon than accept my help?”

The other man’s silence after that question went on far too long, in Draco’s opinion.

“All right!” Fred finally said. “It probably won’t help anyway. Charlie’s likely still too far away from us. But it’s worth a try.”

That was the most enthusiastic encouragement he was likely to get out of Fred Weasley, Draco knew.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” asked Draco.

“Yes, it was. I wouldn’t cooperate with you at all if a hungry dragon weren’t chasing my entire family around a dungeon,” said Fred. “But as it is, I suppose we’d better call a truce, Malfoy.”

“Oh, call me Draco.” He smiled widely.

Fred scowled at him. “Don’t push you luck, ay?”

*******

**Remember, all of the art for each chapter is at:<https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>**


	20. Never Tickle a Wide-Awake Dragon

**CHAPTER 20 : Never Tickle a Wide-Awake Dragon**

**And proving that miracles do happen, the next chapter of D/G Holiday is HERE!** **The pic for today is from an old exchange, but it does show Draco and Ginny with a dragon.**

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and favorite-ers, especially: [meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778)

“All right,” said Fred after a brief pause. “Let’s get on with it. What do we need to do?”

“I need a few strands of your hair,” said Draco.

Looking rather sullen, Fred pulled a folding knife from his pocket and cut off a curl. Draco wondered if it would be a good idea to ask if Fred made a regular practice of carrying knives, or if he’d retrieved one from the shed after finding out that he himself would be at Yule dinner. _Most likely not._

He pulled out his wand and circled it round the hair he held in his palm.

“ _Gennem denne bånd af blod_ ,” he murmured, slowly pulling the wand upwards. He could feel the hair quivering, the power unfurling, but it was doing so much more slowly than he would have liked.

It didn’t help that Fred Weasley was glaring daggers at him while the process was going on, either.

“I knew this wasn’t going to work,” said Fred over his shoulder. “I _knew_ it. What a way to go—eaten by a dragon. I suppose at least I wouldn’t need to hear George saying _I told you so_ forever… wait, what if he gets attacked by the dragon too? I’d have to hear his smug voice through all eternity!”

At that moment, the air at the edge of the misty cloud surrounding them began to shimmer.

“The dragon’s on its way to get us. Right, I should’ve known that an evil spell from the Dark Arts was guaranteed to fail,” Fred said in a rather self-satisfied way. “If only I’d come up with a Dragon Repellent formula… wonder if that would sell well at the joke shop…”

Charlie Weasley materialized several yards away, looking confused. His head whipped from side to side until he caught sight of his brother.

“Oy, Fred! What’s the Runcible spell doing _now_?” He peered into the mist, towards the indistinct shape of the dragon. “A Danish Switchback? Where did that come from?”

“I’ll explain it later,” said Fred. “But right now would be a great time to cast some sort of spell on it, don’t you think?”

“You’ve always been the clever one,” said Charlie dryly, pulling out his wand. _“Cessabit_!”

The dragon gave an earthshaking roar. Charlie’s ginger eyebrows shot up.

“That one _always_ works,” he muttered. “Wonder what’s wrong here… All right… _Tranquillam_!”

The entire floor shook as the shape of the dragon moved, seeming to jump up and down.

For the first time, Charlie actually looked nervous. “ _Maneat en loco,”_ he said in what was undoubtedly meant to be a soothing voice.

Draco wondered if he’d ever regain the hearing in his left ear after the roar following that particular spell. _Of course, I wondered the same thing after that night with Ginny that began in the shower… and my hearing did come back… oh, this is not a good time to be remembering any of the naughty things I’ve done with the Weasleys’ sister…_

Charlie turned to his brother. “Damn it, Fred, this isn’t working,” he admitted with a sigh.

“What do you mean, it isn’t working? You’re supposed to be the dragon taming expert!” exclaimed Fred.

“Yeah, well, this is a very unusual sort of dragon. I’ve almost never dealt with a Danish Switchback before. This is one of those times when nothing standard seems to work,” said Charlie. “I wish Bill were here. He might be able to do something…”

_Oh, gods,_ thought Draco. Bill Weasley was the one member of that family whom he really dreaded ever meeting again. Perhaps it was selfish and cowardly, but he had been very relieved when Ginny had told him that her oldest brother would definitely not be at Yule dinner. He could never forget that Fenrir Greyback had scarred this Weasley beyond repair, and that at least some of the blame had to be laid at his own door. If he had not been enough of a fool to believe Bellatrix when she told him that the werewolf definitely would not be at Hogwarts on that night, then the attack on Bill Weasley would never have happened.

“But he isn’t,” Charlie went on. “And he’s not going to be. So we’re on our own, and we really ought to be able to come up with something between us.”

“But what’s going on here, Charlie?” Fred demanded. “Why aren’t any of the spells working? You can tell me that much, right?”

“Some dragons are bound to a specific family or place,” said Charlie, testing the air with his wand. “They won’t respond to any spell or charm unless it’s cast by one of the family, or the owner of the location. It’s rare, but far from unheard of. The Danish Switchbacks are all like that, which is why I’ve almost never had anything to do with them before. As best as I can figure, that’s what’s going on here.”

“Can’t we just hex it?” Fred was already drawing his wand, but Charlie laid a hand on his wrist.

“Slow down, little bro. You’d only make it worse.” Charlie squinted through the mist. “I can almost see it. Looks like one of those that’s bound to a very old family. They have a certain shape… “

“What happens if nobody from the family is around?” Fred looked a little green.

Charlie shrugged. “We go down fighting, that’s what. Unless you’ve got someone like that on hand?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Fred sighed. “Oy, Malfoy! Might be a good time to come out and make yourself known.”

Draco realized that Charlie still hadn’t actually seen him, and he stepped out of the patch of mist where he had been standing. When he saw Charlie’s eyes narrow, he wondered if there ever would be a good time to meet this particular Weasley.

“What the hell is _Malfoy_ doing here?” demanded Charlie.

“Ah…” Fred didn’t seem inclined to give him any help, so Draco plunged ahead. “I’m here for Yule dinner. Or at least, we thought that Yule dinner was going to take place, but it hasn’t quite worked out that way. Still, that’s why I was invited. You see…er…”

At the sounds of his voice, the dragon gave a much lower murmur and almost seemed to poke its head out of the mists, but not quite. _Why does that seem familiar?_ wondered Draco _. It’s probably an illusion brought on by the terror of impending doom, but I could swear I’ve heard that exact sound before._

_TBC…_

Remember, to find all the D/G art, go to: <https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>


	21. Draco's Decision

**Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and favorite-ers, especially:[meekerprincess9778](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778) . ** **😊**

**This was an experiment with Draco, Ginny, and a dragon. It's not really complete, but it DOES show them in a dungeon with a dragon! ;)**

**CHAPTER 21: Draco’s Decision**

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “You called that dragon here, didn’t you, Malfoy?”

“Of course I didn’t!” snapped Draco. “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“It stopped roaring the second it got close enough to really see you, didn’t it? That means you have some sort of power over it that you aren’t telling us.”

“I can assure you that I don’t, or I wouldn’t still be stuck down here with the pair of you!”

“And you honestly expect us to believe that somebody invited you?” Charlie glared at him from golden-brown eyes that were almost the same color as Ginny’s, Draco thought. “Who? And why?”

Draco’s tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth. If he told Charlie Weasley that his sister had invited himself to Yule dinner, he really thought that he might end up getting fed to the dragon face-first. But that wasn’t the only reason why he couldn’t seem to say the words. He still had no way of knowing how Ginny really felt about him, so how could he tell her furious older brother?

Fred sighed and stepped between them. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this… Charlie, he was invited, never mind who did it, and he really didn’t bring the dragon. It showed up during Lughnasa dinner, remember how I told you? And Malfoy certainly wasn’t here then.“

Charlie blinked. “Well… I suppose… but still…look, I don’t care if he lured it here or not! Either way, he can leave right now. We don’t need you; we’ll get rid of the dragon on our own—so get out of here, Malfoy.”

The renewed roar behind them seemed to give the lie to their words. Fred looked alarmed. “Uh, bro, I’m not so sure about that. It’s not a good sign that the dragon isn’t responding to any of your spells, right? We need to come up with some other plans.” He turned to Draco. “Look, just be honest with us, if you even know what that idea means. Tell us if you think you know anything that might help us out here.”

“Insulting me isn’t normally the best method of obtaining my help,” Draco said through gritted teeth. Yet it had not been lost on him that the dragon had given another roar only after Charlie had taken a distinctly threatening attitude towards him. Perhaps he really could cast some sort of spell or charm to control this dragon, unlikely as it seemed. “But for the sake of—well, never mind whom—I’ll tell you. It’s at least possible that I could help, and if you give me a minute to think, I might be able to come up with something. The Blood-Bond spell worked, after all.”

“I suppose you’re right about that,” Fred said reluctantly.

“You really trust him to help us?” Charlie demanded.

“Uh…” Fred looked uncertain. “Look, I just don’t see what choice we have! The dragon stopped roaring as soon as it poked a bit of its head out and actually saw him, and then it started again when you looked like you were going to pound him into the floor. It seems to be responding to him, Hecate knows why. That’s a good sign, right?”

“Probably because it expects him to order him to attack,” Charlie said darkly.

“Charlie, do you really think I wanted to accept Draco Malfoy at the Yule dinner table?” demanded Fred. “I’d rather throw him in the same pit as all the gnomes Dad tossed over the fence last year! But even I know when enough is enough.”

A strange expression crossed Charlie Weasley’s face. “Any choice at all is better than trusting him.”

“Believe me, I’ve thought that as well. And maybe we could hold out if was only you and me, but that dragon can go after everyone else when it’s done with us,” retorted Fred. “Bro, we’ve got to accept his help.” He grimaced. “Ugh. If I can say that, then why can’t you do the same?”

“Fred, you just don’t know what the Malfoys have always been…” muttered Charlie.

A thought struck Draco. Had Molly Weasley let some hints slip to the older children in the family? And if so, what exactly did she know about the Malfoys in the first place?

The dragon stirred ominously in the background.

Draco took a deep breath. He knew very well that Ginny would never have remained with him for six months if she didn’t believe that he had changed. And he had done that. Three years had passed since the last battle of Hogwarts; four since the events of that awful year when he had been forced to do the Dark Lord’s bidding. He had grown beyond the cruel, sad boy he had once been. Now he needed to prove it, first by what he refrained from doing. He wouldn’t draw his wand and hex them all. He wouldn’t storm away, hurling curses on all the Weasleys and vowing that if all of them except for Ginny ended up eaten by a dragon, it would be better than they deserved.

In a way, of course, he had nowhere to go. The Malfoy social circle had fallen apart. The upper crust of the purebloods were gutted, half of them dead or in Azkaban. But it was more than that. He needed to find a way of his own, a new way, a radically different one, and he wanted to find it with Ginny. There was no hope of that outcome at all if he didn’t prove to her brothers that he had changed. So the time had come to make a choice. _Thank all the gods that Bill Weasley isn’t here, at least._

“You won’t be getting rid of me that easily,” he said, stepping between the two brothers and standing his ground. “I’m here to help you, whether you like it or not.”

“Come on, Charlie. I think he really could help us, or at least he’s our only chance. I mean… he _is_ the one who got you here.” Fred sounded very much as if each word represented a tooth being pulled. 

Charlie grimaced. “I suppose I see your point, bro.” He looked at Draco, his expression truculent. “So you really think you can do something with that dragon?”

“I don’t know yet,” Draco said quite honestly. “We’re going to need to clear the fog first, so that I know exactly what I’m dealing with. I’m flying blind, and I’ve got to be able to see.”

“I’ll do that.” Charlie raised his wand. “ _Cuius evidentiam_.”

The fog around them thinned. The distant walls, wherever they actually were, still remained obscured. But the dragon was suddenly visible, standing shockingly close to Draco. His mouth dropped open.

He was staring at Orion, the dragon that belonged to the Malfoy estate. The same dragon who had roared and stamped and growled at him during that unfortunate dragon-taming incident on his ninth birthday.

His mind ran around and around as frantically as a rat on a treadmill. _Now_ what? None of his attempts to calm Orion had worked on that long-ago day. Were they all simply doomed? Should he try to run for it and let the Weasleys fend for themselves.

_If Orion eats those two,_ he thought in a cold, calculating moment, _then I’ll have enough time to get out of here and find the others… nobody will ever know exactly what happened, after all._

But then Ginny’s face rose in front of him, with the expression he most loved to see, gentle, warm, and unguarded. The face that believed in him. The one he had seen leaning over him in the early morning when she thought he was still asleep, when he was watching her from under his lashes, loving this stolen look at the tender parts of Ginny Weasley. This face was the one he l…

Did he dare to even think that word?

Whether he did or not, he could not bear to think of the look of disappointment that face would wear if Ginny knew that he had not even tried to save her brothers. _And she’ll know, all right,_ he thought. _Ginny always sees through my deceptions more easily than anyone else in the world._

Ignoring Fred and Charlie’s furious whispers in the background, most of which seemed to consist of synonyms for the word _coward_ , he stepped forward. He raised his arms, and he spoke the words that had been such a miserable failure when he’d said them to this dragon over a decade before.

“ _Som arving til Malfoy-navnet beder jeg dig om at være rolig_.”

The dragon’s hot breath blew across his head. For an instant, he was sure that he’d failed just as thoroughly as he had done then, except that this time, there would be no-one to stop the dragon from burning him to a crisp. Orion opened his mouth, showing every one of his teeth. _They’ll need to hold a closed casket funeral for me,_ he thought regretfully, and he prepared for the blast of flame.

TBC…

Remember, to find all the D/G art, go to:[ https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom](https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom)


	22. The Dragon's Surprise

**CHAPTER 22: The Dragon’s Surprise**

**I REALLY love the art for this chapter…** **😉**

 **Thanks to all readers, reviewers, favorite-ers, and followers, especially** [ **meekerprincess9778** ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778) **.!** **😊**

But Draco only felt a large, raspy dragon tongue licking the side of his face. Orion made a contented sound and snuggled against Draco’s side, looking down at him adoringly. _Second time’s the charm_ , he thought, feeling more than a bit stunned.

“What the hell is this?” Charlie demanded.

Draco smirked. “I can’t very well help it if I’m good at everything, Weasley.”

“I knew it! “exclaimed Fred. “You did this through an evil spell from the accursed Dark Arts—oh, you know what? I don’t even care. This means we can get out of here, right?”

“I sincerely hope so,” said Draco. But when he tried to step away from the dragon, its nostrils flared ominously. When Charlie tried to approach Orion, the dragon bared all of its teeth again.

“Wonderful. This dragon’s in love with Malfoy,” said Fred through gritted teeth. “Now what?”

“I’ve seen this kind of thing before,” said Charlie. “He’s got to go with it back to its home. There’s no other way.”

Fred’s face lit up. “So this means he has to leave? Wicked!”

Draco rapidly thought through all of his options and decided that nothing would impress Ginny more than leading a dragon away from the Burrow in order to save her brothers. “All right. I’ll go,” he said.

Charlie’s face creased in confusion. “Malfoy, I can honestly say that I never thought you’d agree to any such thing.”

“Yes, well; I’m full of surprises,” said Draco, wondering if he should insist on a full and correct report being made to Ginny of how he had single-handedly saved them all.

“Well…” Fred exchanged a glance with Charlie. “All right, then. We’ll go and find everyone else.”

Draco lowered his voice. “You’ll make sure that Ginny’s all right?”

Fred nodded, but Charlie shot him a suspicious look. “Hey, what’s this all about?”

“I’ll explain later, bro,” said Fred, with a remarkable amount of self-control, thought Draco.

“So, you’ll just be off with the dragon then, Malfoy,” Charlie said briskly. 

“That’s what I said.” Draco could feel his store of patience with these most annoying Weasley brothers wearing thin.

“Er…” Fred traced a pattern with his foot on the stone floor and glanced at Charlie. “Wouldn’t you say…”

Charlie sighed, with the air of a man making a great concession. “If we see you again, we won’t try to feed you to rabid Nifflers.”

That was as close to friendship as he was likely to get with them, Draco realized. He waved farewell and began to lead Orion away. The dragon bounded happily at his side, making contented noises and nuzzling his shoulder every so often with a loving look.

“Now if I can only find Ginny again,” he mused aloud, “and make sure to tell her in great detail that I was the one responsible for saving the entire Weasley family from a savage, bloodthirsty dragon—Orion, will you _stop_ licking my cheek in that slurpy way?—then all of my problems will be solved. For the moment, at least.”

But as he was all too aware, that was a very big _if._ He had no real idea where Ginny might be. And as they disappeared into the mists, Draco realized that he still did not know where he and the dragon might be headed, either.

“I sincerely hope you know where you’re going, Orion,’ he sighed.

The dragon made an affirmative sort of noise and continued walking confidently into the mist. He certainly seemed to know exactly where they were headed, thought Draco.

Although in a way, that didn’t allay his own unease at all. There was still the problem of exactly _how_ they were going to get from a basement below the Burrow to Malfoy Manor. _I should have known I couldn’t get out of this so easily. We’re going to have to tramp through the snow, and I’ll freeze to death. Well… I suppose if Orion carries on with licking me every thirty seconds, I’ll stay warm, at least. I must say, I’m glad that Father cast a breath-freshening charm on this dragon after the birthday incident. Lucius Malfoy did one thing right in his entire life, at least._

But after only a few more minutes of walking, the mist cleared entirely. They were standing in a roomy subsection of the Malfoy dungeons; Draco recognized it easily. He checked to make sure that the dragon had a good sleeping space and sufficient fresh water. Orion settled in and pressed a lever. A steel trough on one side instantly filled with fresh meat. Draco felt relieved on seeing that the animal’s basic needs were being automatically taken care of. But when he tried to leave, Orion caught at his hand with one sheathed claw and gave him a pitiful look. Draco felt a wave of guilt wash over him, which was a most uncomfortable feeling.

“I’m terribly sorry you’ve been neglected, old boy,” he said, patting the dragon’s side. “I suppose I ought to have known that no-one would have been visiting you. I’ll come down here more often, how about that? Perhaps Ginny would like to meet you… Charlie Weasley is her brother, you know, and he’s quite the dragon tamer…”

Orion’s face lit up, and he nodded. Draco felt even guiltier. He’d never understood that dragons were such sentient animals, and that they had genuine feelings. _Of course, I was never taught any such thing. And my father has less than no interest in anyone’s human feelings, so I’m quite sure he would have ignored the emotions of a dragon._

_TBC…_

Remember, to find all the D/G art, go to: <https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>


	23. The Mysterious Wall

CHAPTER 23: The Mysterious Wall

 **Thanks to all readers, reviewers, favorite-ers, and followers, especially** [ **meekerprincess9778** ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meekerprincess9778/pseuds/meekerprincess9778) **.!** **😊**

**I’m sorry about how short the last chapter was! But the next few are going to make up for it…** **😉**

“Has anyone been visiting you at all?” Draco asked, thinking that he might as well properly wallow in this bizarre feeling of guilt.

The dragon hesitated, and then nodded slightly.

“My mother, I suppose. I don’t see how anyone else could have got down here; the location is blood-bound as well.” _And she never told me_ , Draco thought gloomily.

Orion made a strange gesture that looked very much like a nod and a shake of the head mingled together.

“Yes, and yet no…” Draco had a flash of inspiration. “Do you mean that someone else has visited you as well? Someone she brought with her?”

The dragon gave a long sigh and then spoke in a grating, rusty voice, which made Draco almost jump out of his skin.

“I _do_ wish you wouldn’t ask me that question. Because, you see, if I’m directly asked any questions by the Malfoy heir, then I’m _obligated_ to answer, which can lead to all sorts of _dreadful_ problems. They’re not at _all_ good for my digestion.”

“You—you mean that you can speak?” Draco asked in a voice that was much squeakier than he would have liked it to be.

“I _do_ rather seem to be performing that activity at the moment,” said the dragon, examining his nails. “But the process uses up so much energy, so I prefer not to.”

Draco decided that whichever course of action a dragon preferred was bound to be the right one, at least when said animal had claws that were half a foot long. “I’m terribly sorry. You can stop at any time now, if you like. Although I’m very curious about the answer.”

“I _do_ like,” said Orion after taking a long drink of water. “I only wanted to warn you, Young Master, that you’d most likely be more content if you refrained from asking me about your mother’s companion on her visits. Because I must answer any question, if asked by the Malfoy heir.”

Draco had always been remarkably bad at restraining his curiosity, and nothing goaded him more than being told that he ought not to do something, no matter how good that advice might be.

“Who was it?” he blurted.

The dragon yawned, and the sight of his teeth was almost enough to make Draco wish he had not asked the question. “An old friend,” he said. “He whom your mother knew in days long gone by, now reunited.”

“All right, but who?”

In answer, the dragon curled his tail around his nose and lay down to sleep.

“That can’t be all you’re going to tell me,” said Draco. “You said that you were obligated to answer my questions.”

Orion opened one green-gold eye. “True. But I am a dragon. And no dragon anywhere ever gave everyone a straight answer. We are quite like cats, in that respect.”

Draco somehow knew that he would get no more out of Orion. He sighed, feeling deflated. _I can’t worry any more about this at the moment,_ he decided. _I simply can’t. I must concentrate on getting out of here and finding Ginny._ At the thought of Ginny in the snow, he did find it much easier to stop worrying about whoever his mother’s companion had been. _But I will solve this mystery later on,_ he vowed.

“Be that as it may, I promise that I will never neglect you again,” Draco said very softly, and then he turned to go. _Damn. Ginny’s had an effect on me, without a doubt. I’m actually feeling all of these soft, fluffy, squashy emotions. If the Malfoy ancestors know anything about this, they’re revolving in their graves like spitted chickens._

He walked towards the other end of the dungeons with a confused hope that the process would reverse itself, that the mists would simply rise again and clear within a few minutes, leaving him in the Burrow. After all, this had worked for Orion, he reassured himself. He ignored the little voice of reason, which told him that Orion had found the Malfoy dungeons only because dragons bound to a house had natural homing devices. But then, Draco had always been rather skilled at ignoring the voice of reason when he wished to do so.

The problem was that he found himself running up against the far wall of the main space quite soon. No matter how many spells he tried, it stubbornly refused to turn into the basement below the Burrow.

Draco finally tucked his wand into his belt, sighing. He glanced about the end of the room. This was the same place where he’d stood with Ginny at the beginning of this entire adventure, when she’d persuaded him to wear a Santa suit as she dressed in an elf outfit and then told him that the Malfoy dungeons were far from conducive to the Yuletide spirit. He glanced dully round the room, wishing desperately that she’d never convinced him to go to her family’s hovel in the first place.

He walked round the Christmas tree he’d set up in one corner, waving his wand again in a hopeless way, thinking about what he and Ginny might be doing at that very moment if only he hadn’t been enough to a fool to go there. They could be upstairs in his rooms right now. He could be peeling that elf costume from her body bit by bit. A luxurious hot bath could be running in the heart-shaped tub. And then he’d scoop her up in his arms, throw her into the bubbles, and—

“Ouch!” Draco winced at he ran into the corner. He reached out to push himself away, knocking his hand against one of the stone blocks of the wall. The tips of his fingers went through the stone. His eyes widened. He pulled his hand back and then tentatively reached forward. Again, his fingers began to disappear. He couldn’t help being reminded of what had happened at the Burrow. In that case, he had been stopped from crossing a barrier. Now, he somehow had the ability to put his hand through solid rock when he certainly should not have been able to do so.

He tried standard spells, then spells whose legality was not strictly guaranteed if the Ministry ever caught him doing them, then wandless charms from the _Danmarks Trylleformer,_ and finally, more or less everything he could think of. None of it seemed to have any effect one way or the other. No matter what Draco tried to do, nothing changed. He could reach into the stone, but he could not learn anything more about what was happening. He felt as if he were reaching into ordinary space, but he could not see it. He had no idea where his hand was actually going. And in both cases, spells seemed to have no effect.

 _This is blood-bound magic,_ he realized. _Both at the Burrow, and here in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. And in both cases, it works in relation to me, whether to keep me out or to allow me through. But why? It makes no sense at all._

He tapped his fingers against one thigh, thinking hard. He didn’t know how much time had passed between the moment when he’d watched Ginny drift away with her mother, but he guessed it had been at least half an hour. He already knew that it wasn’t possible to Apparate in or out of the Burrow; that was why he and Ginny had taken the car and then walked in. That process had taken almost two hours, which was time that he did not have at the present moment. Ginny could be in danger. He had to find her, and a strange conviction was growing in his mind that if he walked through the stones in the corner, he _would_ find her. The more vehemently he told himself that this couldn’t possibly be true, the stronger the conviction became.

 _This is absolutely mad,_ he thought, staring at the irregular stones. _Am I actually going to try to walk through a solid wall to come out the gods only know because I think I’ll be able to rescue Ginny? She’s probably perfectly all right. She and her mother are likely safely back in the Burrow. It’s not as if they’re out in the snow…_

But for all he knew, they could be. He did not understand anything about the sort of magic that had split the lower level of the Burrow into pieces and sent the Weasley off their own islands, after all. Perhaps she and her mother really ended up outside in the bitter cold, caught in the gathering storm.

At that thought, Draco’s mind was made up; or rather, there was no choice to make. As surely as a bird flying to its nest, he had to find Ginny.

He took a cloak down from a hook on the wall and brought an extra one for her, unsure if any warming charm could keep them safe in the storm. Then he took a deep breath and stepped forward. In the last split second before he reached the wall, he glanced down at the floor. At the very edge of the corner, he saw a single long tile, a long, narrow inlay with complex blue script.

 _*That’s exactly the same as the ones I saw at the Burrow,*_ he realized. _*The first was set at the foot of the stairs to the first floor. The second was the one that turned into a barrier against me as soon as I put my foot on it. What does this mean? Why is there one here? Was this the worst idea of my life? Perhaps so. But if I find Ginny, it will all be worthwhile.*_ Then there was no more time to think; a string attached to his chest seemed to give a sudden, violent tug, and he was pulled through the stones.

Remember, to find all the D/G art, go to: <https://www.facebook.com/DracoandGinnydotcom>


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